
Cla&Bics 




THE OREGON TRAIL 

PARKMAN 




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Class 
Book 




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GopyrightN". 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE OREGON TRAIL 



OF 



FRANCIS PARKMAN 




1^^^^^®^ 




>5' 






EDITED BY 

WILLIAM ELLERY LEONARD, Ph.D. 

ASSISTANT PROFESSOR CTF ENGLISH AT THE 
UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN 




GINN AND COMPANY 

BOSTON • NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON 




*-" ',:■ 



Copyright, 1872, 1892 
By Francis Parkman 



Copyright, 1897, 1898 
By Little, Brown, and Company 



Copyright, 1900 
By Grace P. Coffin and Katharine Coolidge 



Copyright, 1910 
By Ginn and Company 



ALL rights reserved 

910.11 



GlNN AND COMPANY- PRO- 
PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A. 



■€'Gi.A278.)28 



INSCRIBED 

TO 

MY FRIEND AND TEACHER 

WILLIAM PETERFIELD TRENT 



PREFATORY NOTE 



This edition of The Oregon Trail has been prepared for 
the teacher, the schooh*oom, and the general reader, not for 
the technical student of the Old West. Thus from the Notes 
much collateral information has been excluded, and in the 
Introduction the attempt has been to emphasize only the in- 
tellectual outlines and the philosophic significance of the 
subjects broached. 

The editor is indebted to Dr. Frederick Jackson Turner, 
Professor of American History at the University of Wiscon- 
sin, to Dr. Reuben Gold Thwaites, Secretary of the Wis- 
consin Historical Library, and especially to Louise Phelps 
Kellogg, of the same library, for useful information, and 
to his wife for much clerical assistance. 

W. E. L. 

"University of Wisconsin, 

Madison, April 30, 1910 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction xi 

Suggestive Bibliography xxvii 

Parkman's Prefaces xxxi 

chapter 

I. The Frontier 1 

II. Breaking the Ice . 9 

III. Fort Leavenworth 19 

IV. '' Jumping Off" 23 

V. The "Big Blue" * 34 

VI. The Platte and the Desert 47 

VII. The Buffalo 60 

VIII. Taking French Leave 74 

IX. Scenes at Fort Laramie 89 

X. The War-Parties 103 

XI. Scenes at the Camp 125 

XII. Ill-Luck 143 

XIII. Hunting Indians 150 

XIV. The Ogillallah Village 172 

XV. The Hunting Camp 193 

XVI. The Trappers 216 

XVII.. The Black Hills 226 

XVIII. A Mountain Hunt 230 

XIX. Passage of the Mountains 242 

XX. The Lonely Journey 257 

XXI. The Pueblo and Bent's Fokt 276 

XXII. Tete Rouge, the Volunteer 284 

XXIII. Indian Alarms 289 

XXIV. The Chase 300 

XXV. The Buffalo Camp 309 

XXVI. Down the Arkansas 324 

XXVII. The Settlements 340 

Notes .349 



INTRODUCTION 

FRANCIS PARKMAN: A GREAT WRITER IN THE 
GREAT WEST 

I. Biographical Memoranda 

Francis Parkman, the historian of the Indians, French, 
and English "in early North America, was born in Boston on 
September 16, 1823, the son of a prominent New England 
clergyman. After a delicate but significant childhood, spent 
somewhat in reading Cooper, but more in roaming the out- 
of-doors, his little world of wilderness, now collecting birds' 
eggs, now trapping woodchucks, now creeping along with 
juvenile bow and arrow after a blue jay or robin, he entered 
Harvard College in 1840, where, like Emerson before him, 
he profited more by devotion to his own devices than to the 
narrow curriculum then in vogue, reading during term time 
in Gibbon, Sismondi, Eobertson, and other historians, culti- 
vating his English style with his eye on the pages of Burke, 
and indulging in slight social relaxation with college chums. 
So too it was during his next two years at the Harvard Law 
School. 

His vacations were passed in tramps through the forests 
and wilds of New England and New York, in visits to the 
Indians, to ruined forts, or other objects identified with 
American history before the Eevolution, and in filling many 
notebooks with comments and data that betray the scholar's 
instinct for original sources and historic method long before 
history was taught in our universities as a science. 

In 1843 ill health, which was to pursue him forever, drove 
him for some months abroad, chiefly to Italy, where he ol> 
served not so much the ruins and art as the Church and its 



xii THE OREGON TRAIL 

priesthood, which, as he already knew, had played such an 
imposing part in the founding and building of the American 
continent. In 1846, after leaving the Law School, he went 
off on the Oregon trail for a study of the red man in his 
primeval state. 

Before he was twenty, the plan of his life work lay dis- 
tinct as a mountain before him, an arduous peak, clear and 
far, its sure path seen by the visionary eye, yet soon to be 
more arduous than even he could guess. His youth is the 
story of his preparation ; his subsequent years the story of 
the ascent ; and he died at the top in the cool sunshine of 
a mountain afternoon. It took him fifty years to climb that 
mountain, a half century of conflict, perhaps no less mo- 
mentous to our appreciation of the human spirit than the 
conflicts of nations he so splendidly recorded. For, if the 
mysterious lifelong infirmities of his body are a problem to 
the scientific physician, what the man achieved in despite 
of them is a problem and an inspiration to the student of 
the mysterious resources of the human mind. 

Full of high aims and a lover of action, from the time of 
his return as a lad of twenty-three out of the Far West he 
was beset by inflamed and weak eyes that kept him often in 
a dark chamber, by rheumatic gout that often prevented the 
small boon of a walk around its walls, by bad digestion, by 
insomnia, and at times by a strange perturbation and heavi- 
ness in the brain that made it perilous even to think. Yet, 
with unmurmuring patience and iron self-confidence, watch- 
ing for the moments of some easement, which now and then 
mercifully extended into hours and days and weeks, he 
accomplished his task : sometimes through the mechanical 
device of a frame, with parallel wires for guiding the pencil, 
that enabled him to write with shut eyes ; sometimes through 
assistants, paid out of the small competence left him by his 
father ; sometimes through the help of a good sister, who 
read to him or took his dictation. Even when he was well 



INTRODUCTIOX xiii 

enough in middle life to journey to Paris, it was as much to 
consult the physicians for his body as the archives for his 
history. Only rarely could he work as ordinary men ; and 
during one period of many years he could not wOrk at all. 

It was then, with the resourcefulness of a versatile and 
indomitable spirit, that he began at his home on the borders 
of Jamaica Pond his successful cultivation of exquisite flow- 
ers ; and Parkman's gardens of lilies and roses, which, with 
his book on the subject, won him such fame as a horticultur- 
ist, furnished the one genial resting place amid the stern 
victories of his mountain road. And even the gardens, we 
remember, were saddened by the death of his wife and boy 
(1857-1858). 

He died with serene dignity at the homestead in Jamaica 
Plain, November 8, 1893. The life work, planned in boy- 
hood, he had completed a year before. His career has thus 
something of that entirety which so satisfies us in contem- 
plating the career of Goethe or of Emerson, as opposed to 
the pathetic fragmentariness, so puzzling and solemn, in that 
of Byron, or Shelley, or Keats, or Coleridge. 

Parkman had kindliness, modesty, sociability, humor, be- 
sides those other traits so manfully witnessed by his books. 
As a man, however, he is impressive as a simple yet diffi- 
cult nature, — simple in the dominance of two clearly defined 
characteristics, difficult in view of their baffiing and ex- 
traordinary development : his singleness of purpose, almost 
coincident with his life, and his silent and unconquerable 
strength in putting it through, though the very stars fought 
against him. His singleness of purpose can be paralleled by 
many names, as by the author of Faust and by the first 
Napoleon, to mention two of the greatest ; but for a parallel 
to that grim heroism of elemental manhood, so distinct from 
the resignation acquired by a mystic philosophy or the 
martyrdom sustained by a devout faith, I know not where 
to seek. Milton was blind and Poe was poor ; yet neither 



xiv THE OREGON TRAIL 

was in chains. It seems there is left us but Prometheus 
himself on the bleak rock with the vulture ; yet the Titan 
merely endured, his tasks already done. Parkman endured 
and — worked. The point is just that. There is something 
here for those of us who chafe and whine and give up. 

II. Parkman's Wkitixgs 

Parkman's writings are listed in Whitcomb's Chronolog- 
ical Outlines as follows : 

1. The California and Oregon Trail, 1849.-^ 

2. History of the Conspiraey of Pontiac, 1851. 

3. Vassall Morton, 1856. 

4. Pioneers of France in the New World, 1865. 

5. Book of Roses, 1866. 

6. The Jesuits in North America, 1867. 

7. La Salle, 1869.^ 

8. The Old Regime in Canada, 1874. 

9. Count Frontenac and New France, 1877. 

10. Montcalm and Wolfe, 1884. 

11. Historic Handbook of the Northern Tour, 1885. 

12. A Half Century of Conflict, 1892. 

With the exception of 1 (the present volume), of 3 (an 
indifferent novel of some interest as autobiography),^ of 5 
(a work on horticulture), and of 11 (a mere comj^ilation from 
his histories), the publications make one story, of which 

1 Originally published serially in the Knickerbocker Magazine. 

2 Later revised and enlarged. 

3 The novel is absurdly conventional in the plot and personages. Vassall 
is betrothed. His Friend, loving the lady too, gets Vassall imprisoned on 
false suspicion in an Austrian dungeon. After four years Vassall escapes, 
and, on returning to America, finds his betrothed married to the Friend. 
Friend is unmasked — goes to sea — is washed overboard. Vassall then 
marries the widow. But we get glimpses of Harvard College and the 
woods, and there is a reminiscence of Parkman's own captivity in tlie fate 
of the title character, who, like Parkman, " loved action and loved study " 
(Chapter VI). 



INTRODUCTION xv 

Pontlac, though written first, is the last tragic event. That 
story is the epic of the American forest, the long struggle 
of the French and English for the possession of a continent 
about whose streams and valleys and cliffs still roamed the 
implacable savage of the age of stone. The issues fought 
for have an epic simplicity and grandeur of outline : here is 
Catholic against Protestant, Latin against Germanic, Feud- 
alism against Democracy, and, from another point of view. 
Savagery against Civilization. The hero is the Anglo-Saxon 
Genius warring by destiny for its new home, — 

dum conderet urbem 
iiiferretque deos — 

whence the American people and the lofty towers of these 
states ; Parkman fully realized the significance of his theme 
as the first chapter in the history of our country. But, like 
the Iliad and the Mneld, it has many minor heroes on 
either side, all men of simple and large natures : Pontiac, 
fighting fiercer than Mezentius for an hereditary domain ; 
indomitable La Salle and loyal Tonty of the iron hand ; 
courteous Champlain and stern and fractious Frontenac; 
Marquette, discoverer of the great inland river ; Wolfe, 
sturdy soul in feeble frame, victor on the Plains of Abraham ; 
the young Washington on the Susquehanna. Out of the hero- 
ism of his own life came to Parkman the power to paint 
heroes, and out of his own unsatisfied craving for action came 
the epic verve of his fascinating style. Again, like an epic 
this story strikes the note of religion, — here is the Protes- 
tant farmer at prayer in his Deerfield home, the Jesuit mis- 
sionary saying mass on the borders of Lake Huron in a bark 
chapel before the naked and astonished heathen. It is varied 
by episodes almost as stirring as ever were sung by epic poet : 
the vengeance of Gourgue, the slaughter of the Long Saut, 
the siege of Louisburg, the defeat of Braddock. And, as we 
read, nature is around us in the silence of curving streams 



xvi THE OREGON TRAIL 

and fragrant woods, in the majesty of her sunsets, in the 
terror of her thunder and rain, in her infinitudes of sea 
and sky — nature as she is, not as she is seen by some cult 
of symbolists or mystics.^ 

But in thus bearing witness to Parkman's skill in artistic 
choice and grouping of materials, and Parkman's power of 
imaginative portrayal of nature and man and action, I would 
not forget that he is the scientific historian as well. His 
work is based on a minute and painstaking researcli, the ad- 
miration of later scholars. The points of dramatic emphasis 
are also the points of historic emphasis. The vision of art 
and the vision of fact coincide. Every question and individ- 
ual is, I believe, presented without prejudice And though 
the pageant and the conflict itself dominate his pages, he has 
the critical mind which can, unobtrusively but effectively, 
analyze human character and historic cause and effect. 

Thus in Parkman the writer we see, as in Parkman the 
man, again two qualities of chief note : that of the imagi- 
nation and that of truth. And in the all but perfect fusion 
of the two consists his literary fame. Few European his- 
torians from Thucydides to Gibbon, down to Macaulay and 
Carlyle, have equaled him in this ; and of American histori- 
ans there is no second. Our historians of yesterday — Motley, 
Bancroft, Irving, Prescott, Fiske — had the literary gift ; but 
their facts and their judgments are too often unreliable. 
Our historians of to-day, it seems, have accuracy, method, 
and philosophic understanding ; but they do not produce 
literature. 

1 Yet the student must not forget that "the vision and the faculty- 
divine " of the poets can reveal to him deeper meanings, richer passions, 
and a higher loveliness than any historian. Parkman, great as he is, is 
still neither a Homer, a Vergil, nor a Dante. 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

III. Parkmax's Oregox Trail 
1. Parkman's Narrative 

The Oregon Trail is the classic of travel and adventure 
in the Far West. Irving, who had, to be sure, once spent a 
few weeks in that country, writes a charming narrative in his 
Cajytain Bonneville, full of people, pictures, and information ; 
but it fails to stir the blood like the buoyant and exuberant 
life communicated to us by the lad Parkman. We not only 
see the young horseman out on the Platte, and the Oglala in 
their tepees near the Medicine Bow, and the dirty bourgeois 
at the gates of the trading post, but we mingle among them 
ourselves. And we thrill with a sense of danger, and laugh 
at absurd situations and absurd people. Primeval nature is 
here in all her picturesqueness and charm and terror. We 
are in reality ; it is as if we too left our books and went 
afar at the call of the wild. It is for youth to have such 
adventures ; and it is for youth to record them. Perhaps, 
too, it is for youth to read them. 

But, after all, in some matters of fact, it is a confusing 
world; and, unless we are already familiar with the Far 
West as it was at that time, we will sometimes lose the 
pleasure of the imagination in a moment of intellectual be- 
wilderment. Hence the map and the notes to this edition, 
and the explanatory remarks to follow. 

2. The Itinerai'ij 

Parkman went out in the spring from Westport on the 
Missouri, through what is now northeastern Kansas, and, 
striking the Platte, followed it across the present state of 
Nebraska to Fort Laramie. He then spent some weeks rang- 
ing with the Oglala between the Medicine Bow Mountains 
and the Black Hills. Back at Fort Laramie again, he rode 



xviii THE OREGON TRAIL 

south along the foot of the Rocky Mountains through what 
is now Colorado, then eastward to the settlements through 
central Kansas, part of the way along the Arkansas. In a 
letter to his mother on October 7 he speaks of " gaining a 
great deal of sport and a cartload of experience." 

It was an entirely uncivilized region, visited only by trap- 
pers, United States dragoons, and occasional explorers and 
travelers and missionaries, Oregon and California emigrants, 
and the caravans of the Santa Fe traders. But it was a wilder- 
ness only from the white man's point of view. The Indian 
knew it as an open book ; the trails and watercourses, the 
hills, the boundaries between tribes, all were well known and 
all had their legends and traditions. An immemorial world 
of man passed away when the Anglo-Saxon set Europe on 
the Plains. 

3. The Indians 

Some of the tribes near the settlements, like the Dela- 
wares and Shawnee, had been deported from the east. The 
western Indians of the Plains and the Rockies were still in 
their aboriginal state : chiefly, (1) the Siouan stock ^ (includ- 
ing the Sioux or Dakota, of which Parkman's Oglala were 
a band, the Crow, the Iowa, the Mandan) ; (2) the Caddoan 
(including the Pawnee) ; (3) the Shoshonean (including the 
Shoshone, Comanche, Ute) ; (4) the Algonquian (including 
the Blackfeet, Chippewa, Cheyenne, Arapaho) ; (5) the 
Athapascan (including the Apache and the Navajo, and the 
large tribes far off in Alaska). Space forbids anything but 
these general facts : the reader must turn to TJie Oregon 
Trail itself. But he must remember that Parkman, even with 

1 The classification of the Indian tribes, begun by Gallatin (1836) and 
developed by Powell (1885-1886), is by languages, which, if not absolutely 
scientific ethnology, is the best working basis for study. The spelling of 
Indian names throughout the Introduction and Notes to this edition is that 
agreed on by the Bureau of American Ethnology and the Indian Bureau. 



INTRODUCTION xix 

his keen eye for Indian character and customs, yet wrote 
before the days of Indian ethnology or of comparative 
anthropology. 

4. The Traiypevs 

The trappers that so frequently turn up in Parkman's 
narrative were the product of the great fur trade. From the 
earliest days of French Canada the trappers had gone out 
into the wilderness far beyond even the small protection 
of a frontier post. England, and then, especially in the 
person of John Jacob Astor, the United States had en- 
tered the field. Companies were formed, abandoned, amal- 
gamated, — a complex history. But the individual trapper, 
whether a Frenchman from Canada or the settlements of 
the old regime along the Mississippi, or a restless Yankee 
from the border, continued year after year in the same hunt 
for beaver or bear or buffalo. The trapper it was who first 
knew the Indians, the Indian trails, their fords, their moun- 
tain passes ; who prepared the way for the government ex- 
plorers (Lewis and Clark, Pike, Long, and Fremont), and 
for the missionaries (Marcus Whitman, - Father De Sniet, 
etc.). He built, privately or for the fur compan}^, the first 
defenses. His trading posts, usually called forts, sometimes 
became government stations, sometimes hamlets, and have 
more than once bequeathed their names to modern cities, 
where the factory whistle blows, the newsboy cries the 
paper, and the smug citizen visits art museum and music 
hall or votes for a president of the United States. 

5. The Army of the West in the Dle.rlcan War 

Every now and then, as we read The Oregon Trail, we are 
reminded of the march of events at home. General Kearney's 
dragoons gallop over the prairie, or the commissary wagons 
with their white tops shine along the river. Away out in 



XX THE OREGON TRAIL 

the deserts of peace we hear of war and rumors of war. It 
seems that no place is far enough away for escape from the 
brutal facts of civilization. What is General Kearney doing 
here ? The conflict with Mexico was on. " One of the ear- 
liest steps in the strategy of the war," says Paxson, " Avas 
the organization of an Army of the West at Fort Leaven- 
worth." On June 3, 1846, Kearney was appointed to lead 
an expedition to Upper California by way of Santa Fe. He 
left Fort Leavenworth, June 26, about the time when Park- 
man was out among the Oglala. His eighteen hundred dra- 
goons were at Bent's Fort by the end of July, where a 
subsidiary branch of the Santa Fe trail crossed the Arkan- 
sas River. He took Santa Fe on August 18. On September 25 
he left for California, soon sending back most of his small 
band, as he heard California was already in possession of 
the American naval forces (Monterey, in California, taken 
July 9, 1846). 

6. The Oregon K migrants 

One may ask, too. What are those emigrant farmers and 
families doing here ? This is not the place to explain the 
" Oregon question " ; suffice it that American jealousy of 
the British fur trade in the Northwest, American missionary 
zeal, and the narrative of Lewis and Clark, distributed 
widely as a government document, had by the thirties aroused 
a very practical interest in that remote region. By treaty with 
Great Britian it was opened for squatter privileges. The 
first emigration of any size was that of 1843. In 1844 about 
seven hundred, in 1846 about three thousand, went forth ; 
and the numbers swelled. Some, especially from Missouri 
and Kentucky, went to avoid living with the institution of 
slavery ; some to avoid the fever and ague of the Mississippi 
valley or the cholera of the forties and fifties ; some impelled 
by the hard times of 1837-1841 ; many again, in the words of 
one of them, '' because the thing was n't fenced in, and nobody 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

dared to keep 'em out." The last explanation goes deepest — 
but who shall explain in turn the age-old roving impulse of 
the race ? Early every spring, with as little prearrangement 
as birds flocking together for a migration, they collected at 
Independence or some nearby town on the Missouri, buying 
there much of their outfit, and organizing themselves, with 
the Anglo-Saxon's genius for government, into a company 
with pilot, captain, lieutenant and subalterns, sergeants and 
judges, either there or at the camping place on the first day 
out. There was one large annual migration, but sometimes 
small parties, like those met by Parkman, arriving too late, 
set out alone. It was a journey of four months. The white- 
covered wagons, " the prairie schooners," were drawn by 
mules or oxen. Huge droves of cattle plodded on beside. 
The caravans made from five to thirty miles a day, with reg- 
ular encampments by night and occasional longer halts for 
hunting and washing. There were quarrels to be settled by 
due process of improvised law, newborn babes to be swathed, 
young couples to be married, and many of young and old 
to be laid in mother earth. It was civilization en route. It 
was the last great migration of the Aryan race ; when it was 
accomplished, the Volkerwanderungen were over forever. 

Parkman, primarily interested in the Indian, seems not 
to have appreciated its significance. Moreover, he seems to 
have been unlucky in the emigrant types he met. A reader 
of the contemporary diaries or the reminiscences of the old 
pioneers comes to respect the sturdy manhood and native 
intelligence of those ^people. Nor were they all uncouth. 
One young man during a prairie halt passed off the time in 
reading Shakespeare's Merry Wives of Windsor. Palmer ad- 
vised that '^ every family should lay in [i.e. on fitting out] 
a good supply of school-books for their children." The ear- 
lier parties had not been more than two or three years in the 
Willamette valley before they had organized themselves into 
a temporary government with a constitution modeled on that 



xxii THE OREGON TRAIL 

of Iowa. A great state is to-day what she is by virtue of 
those who sixty and seventy years ago took the Oregon traih 
A few sometimes left the main caravan, when west of the 
Rockies, for the fertile farm lands of California ; but what 
is famous as the California migration had its inception later, 
and in a far different motive — more exciting perhaps, more 
easily defined, but not more earnest and brave. 

7. The Oregon Trail 

Parkman named his narrative after the old highway from 
the settlements through South Pass, which he followed in 
the main to his stopping point at Port Laramie. Beyond the 
portion shown on our map, it wound through the present 
state of Idaho, near the Snake River, across the modern 
Oregon, down the banks of the Columbia to the Willamette 
valley ; while the California trail originally branched off at 
Fort Bridger, rounded Salt Lake on the east and north, and 
passed through the modern Nevada, on into the valley of 
the Sacramento, 

Por some little distance, as indicated by the niap, the Ore- 
gon trail was identical with the road to New Mexico ; indeed 
its few traces in the fields and golf grounds near Kansas 
City are still known as the Santa Pe trail. At about the site 
of the present town of Gardner, Kansas, the traveler came 
to the fork. Here stood a guidepost pointing west. '' Road 
to Oregon " it said, with an eloquence as simple and full as 
in that word '' Italia " which the Alpine tourist may read 
to-day on a certain roadside stone in the mountains just 
south of the Swiss border. 

The Oregon trail was already historic. Originally, like 
many of the main traveled roads of the west, it was made 
by the Indians with man's primitive instinct for the short- 
est or most convenient thoroughfares. The trappers had 
found and followed it. Over a portion of approximately the 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

same course came the land party sent out by Astor in his 
fur-company enterprise of 1811. The exj^lorers and dragoons 
had helped to beat it deeper. The Mormons were soon to fur- 
row it on their hegira to the Great Salt Lake. Now it began 
to grow broader under the rolling wagons of the emigrant 
caravaneers. Year by year saw it deeper and broader. In 
1849 came the rush for the gold of California. Some flung 
along on horseback ; some crept in ox teams ; some trudged 
afoot, each pushing a wheelbarrow. An army of forty thou- 
sand. Five thousand died of cholera on the way. Then the 
rumor of wealth in the Eockies brought the hordes bound for 
Denver, on the canvas sides of whose wagons stood scrawled 
" Pike's Peak or Bust," now an American proverb of some 
pith. The pony express of 1860-1861, from St. Joseph, Mis- 
souri, to Sacramento, swept along the entire course in eight 
days. The eastern part was soon traversed by the Overland 
Mail, bearing to the Pacific news of Gettysburg and Appo- 
mattox ; and we think what a pother, after all, De Quincey 
made of his suburban coach rides down the inland lanes 
of England a half century before. The Indians gazing 
upon the graven wheel tracks stretching, in parallel lines 
a hundred feet wide, a dusty and grassless ribbon of bare 
earth, interminably toward the sunset, called it " the great 
medicine road of the white men" — in the days when it 
belonged to their fathers it had been no more than a foot- 
path or a buffalo run. 

To-day, west of the Rockies, much of its course is marked 
by the railroads. But eastward, out on the prairies it lies, 
overgrown with grass and flowers, distinct, yet desolate 
and untraveled, a relic which, though it lifts no broken 
column or ivied arch to the winds, and throws no solemn 
shadows along the silent plain, abides a Avhile longer,- with 
the annual revolution of earth, as one of her most vast and 
impressive witnesses to the Endeavor and Achievement 
of Man. 



xxiv THE OREGON TRAIL 

The human race has girdled the globe with paths for 
many feet. We look at a map of the Roman Empire and 
trace them, Appian and Flaminian and all the rest, radiat- 
ing from the Eternal City through western Europe. Others 
cross the Russian steppes, and others pass through the wall of 
China. Still others thread the Andes of the vanished Incas. 
Now they bind together all the nations, all the cities, all the 
isles. And, as long as the stars arise, we shall pass from 
place to place. 

8. The Santa Fe Trail 

On his return Parkman encountered the Santa Fe trail 
(see map). For two hundred years trade with Santa Fe had 
been upward through the mountains by pack train and ox 
cart, from Vera Cruz, the Spanish-Mexican port of entry, 
two thousand miles below. By 1822 it surrendered to the 
enterprise of the north — not that of the French-American 
trapper and traveler, be it remarked, but that of the incor- 
rigible Yankee. In 1825 the United States, more watchful 
of her commerce then than now, commissioned its civil 
engineers to mark a road from the Missouri frontier to the 
Mexican. The annual caravan of the Yankee traders, well- 
appointed wagons drawn by teams of eight or ten mules or 
oxen, laden with portable manufactures of the cities of the 
young republic, accompanied part way sometimes by military 
escort of the United States, usually set out, like the Oregon 
emigrants, from Independence, and organized itself, with 
captains, pilot, etc., when it got to Council Grove, one hun- 
dred and fifty miles away. It had then some six hundred and 
fifty miles to go. Its arrival became the event of the year 
for the Santa Feans. After barter and social excitement it 
returned with animals, robes, furs, and the silver of the Mex- 
ican mines, sometimes escorted to the frontier by a guard 
of native soldiery. In 1843 the caravan numbered two hun- 
dred and fifty wagons ; but that same year Mexico forbade 



INTRODUCTION xxv 

the trade, and it was thereafter sporadic and unimpor- 
tant. A '' commerce of the prairies " extending merely over 
a score of years, and of little ulterior importance, save as 
it helped to make the United States familiar with the region 
in the Mexican War a few years later, it nevertheless has to 
our imagination to-day something of the romance of the im- 
memorial traffic over the beaten routes in the Orient — of 
the Arab camels crossing the Sahara, of the caravaneers, 
with the silks of China and India, winding along through 
Syria to the Midland Sea. 



IV. Epilogue 

Such is the man, and such is the country through which 
he passed and of which he has something to tell. We go 
with a great writer into the great West. 



SUGGESTIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY 



The editor has found the following works of especial interest 
in preparing this edition : 

Adventures of Captain Bonneville (entitled in the first edition 
The Rocky Mountains), 1837, Washington Irving. Accessible in 
the Riverside Edition, J. B. Lippincott. It takes us into the 
region traversed somewhat later by Parkman, and beyond, amid 
trappers, traders, and Indians. 

The American Fur Trade of the Far West, 3 vols., II. M. Chitten- 
den, New York, Francis P. Harper, 1902. It furnishes exhaustive 
information on the old trading posts, the itineraries of the Oregon 
and Santa F^ travel, and (in Vol. Ill) a detailed map, drawn by 
Paul Burgoldt, of the trans-Mississippi territory as it was between 
1807 and 1843. 

The American Nation, edited by Albert B. Hart, especially Vol. 
XIV, Rise of the New West 1819-1829, Frederick J. Turner, and 
Vol. XVII, Westward Extension 1841-1850, George P. Garrison, 
New York, Harper and Brothers, 1906. 

Breaking the Wilderness, Frederick S. Dellenbaugh, New York, 
G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1905. " The story of the conquest of the far 
west from the wanderings of Cabeza de Vaca to . . . the completion 
of the Union Pacific Railway." Copiously illustrated ; " a good 
story," both popular and reliable. 

Early Western Travels 1748-1846, Vols. I-XXXII, edited with 
great learning and skill by R. G. Thwaites, Cleveland, Arthur 
H. Clark Co., 1901-1907. This is "a series of annotated reprints 
of some of the best and rarest contemporary volumes of travel, 
descriptive of the aborigines and social and economic conditions 
of the middle and far west, during the period of early American 
settlement." It is referred to in the notes as E. W. T. 

xxvii 



xxviii THE OREGON TRAIL 

The volumes of E. W. T. most interesting to the student of 
Parkman's Oregon Trail are presumably the following : 

Vols. XIX-XX, Commerce of the Prairies (1831-1839), J. Gregg. 
This is the classic of the Santa F6 trade. 

Vol. XXV, " Comprising the series of original paintings by- 
Charles Bodmer to illustrate Maximilian, Prince of Wied's, 
Travels in the Interior of North America, 1832-1834." Indians, 
landscapes, historic spots, a treasure-trove for the enthusiast. 

Vols. XXVIII-XXIX, Travels in the Great Western Prairies (1839), 
T. J. Farnham. It was published in London, 1843. 

Vol. XXIX, Oregon Missions and Travels over the Rocky Moun- 
tains, 1845-1846, Father P. J. De Smet of the Society of Jesus. 

Vol. XXX, Journal of Travels over the Rocky Mountains, 1845- 
1846, Joel Palmer. " The most complete description of the 
Oregon trail we now possess " (Thwaites, Introduction, p. 18). 
It was intended, when published in 1847, for use as an emi- 
grant's guidebook. 

Vols. XXXI-XXXII, Analytical Index to the Series. Prepared 
with a staff of assistants. Remarkably thorough, ingenious, 
and practical, perhaps the best piece of indexing ever done in 
America. By its means may be found in the various volumes 
references throwing light on many details (especially of indi- 
viduals and places) not explained in our notes. 

The Last American Frontier, F. L. Paxson, New York, Macmillan, 
1910. The latest and best brief popular treatment. 

Our Wild Indians, Col. Richard I. Dodge, Hartford, A. D. 
Worthington and Co., 1883. It records thirty-three years' experi- 
ence among the Plains Indians ; invaluable to the mature student, 
and a genuine " boy's book " too. 

The Plains of the Great West, Col. Richard I. Dodge, New York, 
G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1877. 

Francis Parkman, Charles H. Farnham, Boston, Little, Brown, 
and Co., 1901. The most complete in biographical facts and the 
most thoughtful in criticism of the man and the writer of all the 
studies about Parkman. 



SUGGESTIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY xxix 

Francis Parkman, Henry D. Sedgwick, American Men of Let- 
ters Series, Boston, Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1904. 

The Quarterly of the Oregon Historical Society, published at 
Salem, Oregon, especially A"ol. I (1900), The Oregon Trail, F. G. 
Young. This gives interesting photographs and other data of the 
Oregon trail as it is to-day. Also : 

Vol. I, A Day with the Cow Column in 1843, Jesse Applegate. 

Vol. II, The Oregon Trail in 1844, John Minto. 

Vol. VII, Diary of the Emigration of 1843, James W. Nesmith. 

Vol. VII, Route Across the Rocky Mountains, Overton Johnson 
and "William H. Winter of the Emigration of 1843. (Reprint of 
a work published in 1816.) 

Reports of the Bureau of Ethnology, Washington, Government 
Printing Office. The most authoritative studies of the Indians. 

Rocky Mountain Exploration, R. G. Thwaites, New York, 
D. Appleton and Co., 1904. 

The Significance of the Frontier in American History, Frederick 
J. Turner in Annual Report of the American Historical Association 
for 1893, pp. 199-227. 

Sources of the History of Oregon, published at Eugene, Oregon, 
especially Vol. I, The Correspondence and Journals of Captain 
Nathaniel J. Wyeth, 1831-1836. Also : 

Vol. I, Journal of Medorem Crawford. An account of his trip 
across the plains with the Oregon pioneers of 1842. 

The Winning of the West, Theodore Roosevelt, in The Sagamore 
Series, New York, G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1900 (first published in 
1889). This familiar work deals of course with an earlier period 
and a more easterly territory than The Oregon Trail, but is in- 
valuable as a historic background to the days of the last frontier 
and the Far West. 

Parkman's works are published by Little, Brown, and Co., 
Library Edition, 1909. 



PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION 

The following sketches first appeared in 1847.^ A sum- 
mer's adventures of two youths just out of college might 
well enough be allowed to fall into oblivion, were it not 
that a certain interest will always attach to the record of 
that which has passed away never to return. This book is 
the reflection of forms and conditions of life which have 
ceased, in great measure, to exist. It mirrors the image of 
an irrevocable past. 

I remember that, as we rode by the foot of Pike's Peak, 
when for a fortnight we met no face of man, my companion 
remarked, in a tone anything but complacent, that a time 
would come when those plains would be a grazing country, 
the buffalo give^place to tame cattle, farmhouses be scattered 
along the water-courses, and wolves, bears, and Indians be 
numbered among the things that were. ^Ve condoled with 
each other on so melancholy a prospect, but we little 
thought what the future had in store. We knew that there 
was more or less gold in the seams of those untrodden 
mountains ; but we did not foresee that it would build cities 
in the waste and plant hotels and gambling-houses among 
the haunts of the grizzly bear. We knew that a few fanati- 
cal outcasts were groping their way across the plains to 

1 Parkman inserted the following memorandum in the later editions : 
The " Oregon Trail " is the title under which this book first appeared. It 
was afterwards changed by the publisher, and is now restored to the form 
in which it originally stood in the Knickerbocker Magazine. As the early 
editions were printed in my absence, I did not correct the proofs, — a 
process doubly necessary, since the book was written from dictation. 
The necessary corrections have been made in the present edition. 

xxxi 



xxxii THE OREGON TRAIL 

seek an asylum from Gentile persecution ; but we did not 
imagine that the polygamous hordes of Mormon would rear 
a swarming Jerusalem in the bosom of solitude itself. We 
knew that, more and more, year after year, the trains of 
emigrant wagons would creep in slow procession towards 
barbarous Oregon or wild and distant California; but we 
did not dream how Commerce and Gold would breed nations 
along the Pacific, the disenchanting screech of the locomotive 
break the spell of weird mysterious mountains, woman's 
rights invade the fastnesses of the Arapahoes, and despair- 
ing savagery, assailed in front and rear, vail its scalp-locks 
and feathers before triumphant commonplace. We were no 
prophets to foresee all this ; and, had we foreseen it, per- 
haps some perverse regrets might have tempered the ardor 
of our rejoicing. 

The wild cavalcade that defiled with me down the gorges 
of the Black Hills, with its paint and war-plumes, fluttering 
trophies and savage embroidery, bows, arrows, lances, and 
shields, will never be seen again. Those who formed it have 
found bloody graves, or a ghastlier burial in the maws of 
wolves. The Indian of to-day, armed with a revolver and 
crowned with an old hat ; cased, possibly, in trousers or 
muffled in a tawdry shirt, — is an Indian still, but an Indian 
shorn of the picturesqueness which was his most conspicuous 
merit. 

The mountain trapper is no more, and the grim romance 
of his wild, hard life is a memory of the past. 

As regards the motives which sent us to the mountains, 
our liking for them would have sufficed ; but, in my case, 
another incentive was added. I went in great measure as a 
student, to prepare for a literary undertaking of which the 
plan was already formed, but which, from the force of inex- 
orable circumstances, is still but half accomplished. It was 
this that prompted some proceedings on my part, which, 
without a fixed purpose in view, might be charged with 



PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION xxxiii 

youthful rashness. My business was observation, and I was 
willing to pay dearly for the opportunity of exercising it. 

Two or three years ago, I made a visit to our guide, the 
brave and true-hearted Henry Chatillon, at the town of 
Carondelet, near St. Louis. It was more than twenty years 
since we had met. Time hung heavy on his hands, as usual 
with old mountain-men married and established; his hair 
was touched with gray, and his face and figure showed 
tokens of early hardship ; but the manly simplicity of his 
character was unchanged. He told me that the Indians with 
whom I had been domesticated, a band of the hated Sioux, 
had nearly all been killed in fights with the white men. 

The faithful Deslauriers is, I believe, still living on the 
frontier of the Missouri. The hunter Raymond perished in 
the snow during Fremont's disastrous passage of the moun- 
tains in the winter of 1848. 

Boston, March 30, 1872 



PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1892 

In the preface to the fourth edition of this book, printed in 
1872, I spoke of the changes that had already come over the 
Far West. Since that time change has grown to metamor- 
phosis. For Indian tepees, with their trophies of bow, lance, 
shield, and dangling scalp-locks, we have towns and cities, 
resorts of health and pleasure seekers, with an agreeable 
society, Paris fashions, the magazines, the latest poem, and the 
last new novel. The sons of civilization, drawn by the fascina- 
tions of a fresher and bolder life, thronged to the western 
wilds in multitudes which blighted the charm that had lured 
them. 

The buffalo is gone, and of all his millions nothing is left 
but bones. Tame cattle and fences of barbed wire have sup- 
planted his vast herds and boundless grazing grounds. Those 
discordant serenaders, the wolves that howled at evening 
about the traveller's camp-fire, have succumbed to arsenic 
and hushed their savage music. The wild Indian is turned 
into an ugly caricature of his conqueror ; and that which 
made him romantic, terrible, and hateful, is in large meas- 
ure scourged out of him. The slow cavalcade of horsemen 
armed to the teeth has disappeared before parlor cars and 
the effeminate comforts of modern travel. 

The rattlesnakes have grown bashful and retiring. The 
mountain lion shrinks from the face of man, and even grim 
'' Old Ephraim," ^ the grizzly bear, seeks the seclusion of 
his dens and caverns. It is said that he is no longer his 
former self, having found, l)v an intelligence not hitherto 

1 Alias " Old Caleb " and " Old Enoch." 

XXXV 



xxxvi THE OREGON TRAIL 

set to his credit, that his ferocious strength is no match for 
a repeating rifle ; with which discovery he is reported to have 
grown diffident, and abated the truculence of his more pros- 
perous days. One may be permitted to doubt if the blood- 
thirsty old savage has really experienced a change of heart ; 
and before inviting him to single combat, the ambitious 
tenderfoot, though the proud possessor of a Winchester 
with sixteen cartridges in the magazine, would do well to 
consider not only the quality of his weapon, but also that 
of his own nerves. 

He who feared neither bear, Indian, nor devil, the all- 
daring and all-enduring trapper, belongs to the past, or lives 
only in a few gray-bearded survivals. In his stead we have 
the cowboy, and even his star begins to wane. 

The Wild West is tamed, and its savage charms have 
withered. If this book can help to keep their memory alive, 
it will have done its part. It has found a powerful helper 
in the pencil of Mr. Eemington, whose pictures are as full of 
truth as of spirit, for they are the work of one who knew 
the prairies and the mountains before irresistible common- 
place had subdued them. 

Boston, 16 September, 1892 



THE OREGON TRAIL 



CHAPTER I 
THE FRONTIER 

Last spring, 1846, was a busy season in the city of St. Louis. 
Not only were emigrants from every part of the country 
preparing for the journey to Oregon and California, but an 
unusual number of traders were making ready their wagons 
and outfits for Santa Fe. The hotels were crowded, and the 5 
gunsmiths and saddlers were kept constantly at work in 
providing arms and equipments for the different parties of 
travellers. Steamboats were leaving the levee and passing 
up the Missouri, crowded with passengers on their way to 
the frontier. lo 

In one of these, the " Radnor," since snagged and lost, my 
friend and relative, Quincy Adams Shaw, and myself, left 
St. Louis on the twenty-eighth of April, on a tour of curi- 
osity and amusement to the Rocky Mountains. The boat 
was loaded until the water broke alternately over her guards. 15 
Her upper-deck was covered with large wagons of a peculiar 
form, for the Santa Fe trade, and her hold was crammed 
with goods for the same destination. There were also the 
equipments and provisions of a party of Oregon emigrants, 
a band of mules and horses, piles of saddles and harness, 20 
and a multitude of nondescript articles, indispensable on the 
prairies. Almost hidden in this medley was a small French 
cart, of the sort very appropriately called a ''mule-killer," 
beyond the frontiers, and not far distant a tent, together with 
a miscellaneous assortment of boxes and barrels. The whole 

1 



2 THE OREGON TRAIL 

equipage was far from prepossessing in its appearance ; yet, 
such as it was, it was destined to a long and arduous journey 
on which the persevering reader will accompany it. 

The passengers on board the "Radnor " corresponded with 

5 her freight. In her cabin were Santa Fe traders, gamblers, 
speculators, and adventurers of various descriptions, and 
her steerage was crowded with Oregon emigrants, "mountain 
men," negroes, and a party of Kanzas Indians, who had 
been on a visit to St. Louis. 

10 Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven or eight 
days against the rapid current of the Missouri, grating upon 
snags, and hanging for two or three hours at a time upon 
sand-bars. We entered the mouth of the Missouri in a driz- 
zling rain, but the weather soon became clear, and showed 

15 distinctly the broad and turbid river, with its eddies, its 
sand-bars, its ragged islands "and forest-covered shores. The 
Missouri is constantly changing its course, wearing away 
its banks on one side, while it forms new ones on the other. 
Its channel is continually shifting. Islands are formed, and 

20 then washed away, and while the old forests on one side 
are undermined and swept off, a young growth springs up 
from the new soil upon the other. With all these changes, 
the water is so charged with mud and sand that, in spring, 
it is perfectly opaque, and in a few minutes deposits a sedi- 

25 ment an inch thick in the bottom of a tumbler. The river 
was now high ; but when we descended in the autumn it 
was fallen very low, and all the secrets of its treacherous 
shallows were exposed to view. It was frightful to see the 
dead and broken trees, thick-set as a military abattis, firmly 

30 imbedded in the sand, and all pointing down stream, ready 
to impale any unhappy steamboat that at high water should 
pass over them. 

In five or six days we began to see signs of the great 
western movement that was taking place. Parties of emi- 
grants, with their tents and wagons, were encamped on open 



THE FRONTIER 3 

spots near the bank, on their way to the common rendezvous 
at Independence. On a rainy day, near sunset, we reached 
the landing of this place, which is some miles from the 
river on the extreme frontier of Missouri, The scene was 
characteristic, for here were represented at one view the 5 
most remarkable features of this wild and enterprising 
region. On the muddy shore stood some thirty or forty 
dark slavish-looking Spaniards, gazing stupidly out from 
beneath their broad hats. They were attached to one of the 
Santa Fe companies, whose wagons were crowded together lo 
on the banks above. In the midst of these, crouching over a 
smouldering lire, was a group of Indians, belonging to a re- 
mote Mexican tribe. One or two French hunters from the 
mountains, with their long hair and buckskin dresses, were 
looking at the boat ; and seated on a log close at hand were 15 
three men, with rifles lying across their knees. The fore- 
most of these, a tall, strong figure, with a clear blue eye and 
an open, intelligent face, might very well represent that 
race of restless and intrepid pioneers whose axes and rifles 
have opened a path from the Alleghanies to the western 20 
prairies. He Avas on his way to Oregon, probably a more 
congenial field to him than any that now remained on this 
side of the great plains. 

Early on the next morning we reached Kanzas, about 
five hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here 25 
we landed, and leaving our equipments in charge of Colonel 
Chick, whose log-house was the substitute for a tavern, we 
set out in a wagon for* Westport, where we hoped to procure 
mules and horses for the journey. 

It was a remarkably fresh and beautiful IVIay morning. 30 
The woods, through which the miserable road conducted us, 
were lighted by the bright sunshine and enlivened by a 
multitude of birds. We overtook on the way our late fellow- 
travellers, the Kanzas Indians, who, adorned with all their 
finery, were proceeding homeward at a round pace ; and 



4 THE OREGON TRAIL 

whatever they might have seemed on board the boat, they 
made a very striking and picturesque feature in the forest 
landscape. 

Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggy ponies 

5 were tied by dozens along the houses and fences. Sacs and 
Foxes, with shaved heads and painted faces, Shawanoes 
and Delawares, fluttering in calico frocks and turbans, 
Wyandots dressed like white men, and a few wretched 
Kanzas wrapped in old blankets, were strolling about the 

10 streets, or lounging in and out of the shops and houses. 

As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remarkable- 
looking personage coming up the street. He had a ruddy 
face, garnished with the stumps of a bristly red beard and 
moustache ; on one side of his head was a round cap with a 

15 knob at the top, such as Scottish laborers sometimes wear ; his 
coat was of a nondescript form, and made of a *gray Scotch 
plaid, with the fringes hanging all about it ; he wore trousers 
of coarse homespun, and hob-nailed shoes ; and to complete 
his equipment, a little black pipe was stuck in one corner of 

20 his mouth. In this curious attire, I recognized Captain 

C , of the British army, who, with his brother, and Mr. 

R , an English gentleman, was bound on a hunting ex- 
pedition across the continent. I had seen the captain and 
his companions at St. Louis. They had now been for some 

25 time at Westport, making preparations for their departure, 
and waiting for a reinforcement, since they were too few in 
number to attempt it alone. They might, it is true, have 
joined some of the parties of emigrants who were on the 
point of setting out for Oregon and California; but they 

30 professed great disinclination to have any connection with 
the " Kentucky fellows." 

The captain now urged it upon us that we should join 
forces and proceed to the mountains in company. Feeling 
no greater partiality for the society of the emigrants than 
they did, we thought the arrangement a good one, and 



THE FRONTIER 5 

consented to it. Our future fellow-travellers had installed 
themselves in a little log-house, where we found them sur- 
rounded by saddles, harness, guns, pistols, telescopes, knives, 
and, in short, their complete appointments for the prairie. 

R , who had a taste for natural history, sat at a table 5 

stuffing a woodpecker ; the brother of the captain, who was 
an Irishman, was splicing a trail-rope on the floor. The 
captain pointed out, with much complacency, the different 
articles of their outfit. " You see," said he, " that we are 
all old travellers. I am convinced that no party ever went lo 
upon the prairie better provided." The hunter whom they 
had employed, a surly-looking Canadian, named Sorel, and 
their muleteer, an American ruffian from St. Louis, were 
lounging about the building. In a little log stable close at 
hand were their horses and mules, selected with excellent 15 
judgment by the captain. 

We left them to complete their arrangements, while we 
pushed our own to all convenient speed. The emigrants, 
for whom our friends professed such contempt, were en- 
camped on the prairie about eight or ten miles distant, to 20 
the number of a thousand or more, and new parties were 
constantly passing out from Independence to join them. 
They were in great confusion, holding meetings, passing 
resolutions, and drawing up regulations, but unable to unite 
in the choice of leaders to conduct them across the prairie. 25 
Being at leisure one day, I rode over to Independence. The 
town was crowded. A multitude of shops had sprung up to 
furnish the emigrants and Santa Fe traders with necessaries 
for their journey ; and there was an incessant hammering 
and banging from a dozen blacksmiths' sheds, where the 30 
heavy wagons were being repaired, and the horses and oxen 
shod. The streets were thronged with men, horses, and 
mules. While I was in the town, a train of emigrant wagons 
from Illinois passed through, to join the camp on the prairie, 
and stopped in the principal street. A multitude of healthy 



6 THE OREGON TRAIL 

children's faces were peeping out from under the covers of 
the wagons. Here and there a buxom damsel was seated 
on horseback, holding over her sunburnt face an old 
umbrella or a parasol, once gaudy enough, but now miser- 
5 ably faded. The men, very sober-looking countrymen, stood 
about their oxen ; and as I ^mssed I noticed three old fel- 
lows, who, with their long whips in their hands, were 
zealously discussing the doctrine of regeneration. The 
emigrants, however, are not all of this stamp. Among 

10 them are some of the vilest outcasts in the country. I have 
often perplexed myself to divine the various motives that 
give impulse to this migration ; but whatever they may be, 
whether an insane hope of a better condition in life, or a 
desire of shaking off restraints of law and society, or mere 

15 restlessness, certain it is, that multitudes bitterly repent the 
journey, and, after they have reached the land of promise, 
are happy enough to escape from it. 

In the course of seven or eight days we had brought our 
preparations nearly to a close. Meanwhile our friends had 

2a completed theirs, and, becoming tired of Westport, they told 
us that they Avould set out in advance, and wait at the 
crossing of the Kanzas till we should come up. Accordingly 

R and the muleteer went forward with the wagon and 

tent, while the captain and his brother, together with Sorel, 

25 and a trapper named Boisverd, who had joined them, fol- 
lowed with the band of horses. The commencement of the 
journey was ominous, for the captain was scarcely a mile 
from Westport, riding along in state at the head of his 
party, leading his intended buffalo horse by a rope, when a 

30 tremendous thunder-storm came on and drenched them all to 
the skin. They hurried on to reach the place, about seven 
miles off, where R was to have had the camp in readi- 
ness to receive them. But this prudent person, when he 
saw the storm approaching, had selected a sheltered glade 
in the woods where he pitched his tent, and was sipping a 



THE FRONTIER 7 

comfortable cup of coffee while the captain galloped for 
miles beyond through the rain to look for him. At length 
the storm cleared away, and the sharp-eyed trapper suc- 
ceeded in discovering his tent ; R had by this time fin- 
ished his coffee, and was seated on a buffalo-robe smoking 5 
his pipe. The captain was one of the most easy-tempered 
men in existence, so he bore his ill-luck with great com- 
posure, shared the dregs of the coffee with his brother, 
and lay down to sleep in his wet clothes. 

We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We were lo 
leading a pair of mules to Kanzas when the storm broke. 
Such sharp and incessant flashes of lightning, such stun-^p'^ 
ning and continuous thunder, I had never known before. 
The woods were completely obscured by the diagonal sheets 
of rain that fell with a heavy roar, and rose in spray from 15 
the ground, and the streams swelled so rapidly that we 
could hardly ford them. At length, looming through the 
rain, we saw the log-house of Colonel Chick, who received 
us with his usual bland hospitality ; while his wife, who, 
though a little soured and stiffened by a long course of 20 
camp-meetings, was not behind him in goodwill, supplied 
us with the means of bettering our drenched and bedrag- 
gled condition. The storm clearing away at about sunset 
opened a noble prospect from the porch of the colonel's 
house, which stands upon a high hill. The sun streamed 25 
from the breaking clouds upon the swift and angry Missouri, 
and on the vast expanse of forest that stretched from its 
banks back to the distant bluffs. 

Returning on the next day to Westport, we received a 
message from the captain, who had ridden back to deliver 30 
it in person, but finding that we were in Kanzas, had in- 
trusted it with an acquaintance of his named Vogel, who 
kept a small grocery and liquor shop. Whiskey, by the way, 
circulates more freely in Westport than is altogether safe 
in a place where every man carries a loaded pistol in his 



8 THE OREGON TRAIL 

pocket. As we passed this establishment we saw VogePs 
broad German face thrust from his door. He said he had 
something to tell us, and invited us to take a dram. Neither 
his liquor nor his message was very palatable. The captain 

5 had returned to give us notice that R , who assumed the 

direction of his party, had determined upon another route 
from that agreed upon between us ; and instead of taking 
the course of the traders, had resolved to pass northward 
by Fort Leavenworth, and follow the path marked out by 

10 the dragoons in their expedition of last summer. To adopt 
such a plan without consulting us, we looked upon as a 
high-handed proceeding ; but suppressing our dissatisfaction 
as well as we could, we made up our minds to join them 
at Fort Leavenworth, where they were to wait for us. 

15 Accordingly, our preparation being now CQmplete, we at- 
tempted one fine morning to begin our journey. The first 
step was an unfortunate one. No sooner were our animals 
put in harness than the shaft-mule reared and plunged, 
burst ropes and straps, and nearly flung the cart into the 

20 Missouri. Finding her wholly uncontrollable, we exchanged 
her for another, with which we were furnished by our 
friend Mr. Boone, of Westport, a grandson of Daniel Boone, 
the pioneer. This foretaste of prairie experience was very 
soon followed by another. Westport was scarcely out of 

25 sight when we encountered a deep muddy gully, of a species 
that afterward became but too familiar to us, and here for 
the space of an hour or more the cart stuck fast. 



CHAPTER II 
BREAKING THE ICE 

Emerging from the mud-holes of Westport, we pursued 
our way for some time along the narrow track, in the check- 
ered sunshine and shadow of the woods, till at length, issuing 
into the broad light, we left behind us the farthest outskirts 
of the great forest, that once spread from the western 5 
plains to the shore of the Atlantic. Looking over an inter- 
vening belt of bushes, we saw the green, ocean-like expanse 
of prairie, stretching swell beyond swell to the horizon. 

It was a mild, calm spring day ; a day when one is more 
disposed to musing and revery than to action, and the soft- lo 
est part of his nature is apt to gain the upper hand. I rode 
in advance of the party, as we passed through the bushes, 
and, as a nook of green grass offered a strong temptation, I 
dismounted and lay down there. All the trees and saplings 
were in flower, or budding into fresh leaf ; the red clusters 15 
of the maple-blossoms and the rich flowers of the Indian 
apple were there in profusion ; and I was half inclined to 
regret leaving behind the land of gardens for the rude and 
stern scenes of the prairie and the mountains. 

Meanwhile the party came in sight out of the bushes. 20 
Foremost rode Henry Chatillon, our guide and hunter, a fine 
athletic figure, mounted on a hardy gray Wyandot pony. 
He wore a white blanket-coat, a broad hat of felt, moccasons, 
and trousers of deer-skin, ornamented along the seams with 
rows of long fringes. His knife was stuck in his belt; his 25 
bullet-pouch and powder-horn hung at his side, and his rifle 
lay before him, resting against the high pommel of his 
saddle, which, like all his equipments, had seen hard service, 

9 



10 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and was much the worse for wear. Shaw followed close, 
mounted on a little sorrel horse, and leading a larger animal 
by a rope. His outfit, which resembled mine, had been pro- 
vided with a view to use rather than ornament. It consisted 

5 of a plain, black Spanish saddle, with holsters of heavy pis- 
tols, a blanket rolled up behind, and the trail-rope attached 
to his horse's neck hanging coiled in front. He carried a 
double-barrelled smooth-bore, while I had a rifle of some 
fifteen pounds' weight. At that time our attire, though far 

10 from elegant, bore some marks of civilization, and offered a 
very favorable contrast to the inimitable shabbiness of our 
appearance on the return journey. A red flannel shirt, 
belted around the waist like a frock, then constituted our 
upper garment ; moccasons had supplanted our failing boots ; 

15 and the remaining essential portion of our attire consisted 
of an extraordinary article, manufactured by a squaw out 
of smoked buckskin. Our muleteer, Deslauriers, brought up 
the rear with his cart, wading ankle-deep in the mud, alter- 
nately puffing at his pipe, and ejaculating in his prairie 

20 patois, ''Sacre enfant de garcef " as one of the mules would 
seem to recoil before some abyss of unusual profundity. 
The cart was of the kind that one may see by scores around 
the market-place at Quebec, and had a white covering to pro- 
tect the articles within. These were our provisions and a tent, 

25 with ammunition, blankets, and presents for the Indians. 
We were in all four men with eight animals ; for besides 
the spare horses led by Shaw and myself, an additional mule 
was driven along with us as a reserve in case of accident. 
After this summing up of our forces, it may not be amiss 

30 to glance at the characters of the two men who accom- 
panied us. 

Deslauriers was a Canadian, with all the characteristics of 
the true Jean Baptiste. Neither fatigue, exposure, nor hard 
labor could ever impair his cheerfulness and gayety, or his 
politeness to his bourgeois ; and when night came, he would 



BREAKING TPIE ICE 11 

sit down by the fire, smoke his pipe, and tell stories with 
the utmost contentment'. The prairie was his element. 
Henry Chatillon was of a different stamp. When we were 
at St. Louis, several gentlemen of the Fur Company had 
kindly offered to procure for us a hunter and guide suited 5 
for our purposes, and on coming one afternoon to the office, 
we found there a tall and exceedingly well-dressed man, 
with a face so open and frank that it attracted our notice 
at once. We were surprised at being told that it was he 
who wished to guide us to the mountains. He was born in a lo 
little French town near St. Louis, and from the age of fif- 
teen years had been constantly in the neighborhood of the 
Rocky Mountains, employed for the most part by the com- 
pany, to supply their forts with buffalo meat. As a hunter, 
he had but one rival in the whole region, a man named 15 
Simoneau, with whom, to the honor of both of them, he was 
on terms of the closest friendship. He had arrived at St. 
Louis the day before, from the mountains, where he had 
been for four years ; and he now asked only to go and spend a 
day with his mother, before setting out on another expedi- 20 
tion. His age was about thirty ; he was six feet high, and 
very powerfully and gracefully moulded. The prairies 
had been his school ; he- could neither read nor write, but 
he had a natural refinement and delicacy of mind, such as 
is rare even in women. His manly face was a mirror of up- 25 
rightness, simplicity, and kindness of heart ; he had, more- 
over, a keen perception of character, and a tact that would 
preserve him from flagrant error in any society. Henry had 
not the restless energy of an Anglo-American. He was con- 
tent to take things as he found them ; and his chief fault .'30 
arose from an excess of easy generosity, not conducive to 
thriving in the world. Yet it was commonly remarked of 
him, that whatever he might choose to do with what be- 
longed to himself, the property of others was always safe 
in his hands. His bravery was as much celebrated in the 



12 THE OREGON TRAIL 

mountain! as his skill in hunting ; but it is characteristic of 
him that in a country where the rifle is the chief arbiter be- 
tween man and man, he was very seldom involved in 
quarrels. Once or twice, indeed, his quiet good-nature had 

5 been mistaken and presumed upon, but the consequences of 
the error were such that no one was ever known to repeat 
it. No better evidence of the intrepidity of his temper 
could be asked, than the common report that he had killed 
more than thirty grizzly bears. He was a proof of what 

10 unaided nature will sometimes do. I have never, in the 
city or in the wilderness, met a better man than my true- 
hearted friend, Henry Chatillon. 

We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and fairly 
upon the broad prairie. Now and then a Shawanoe passed 

15 us, riding his little shaggy pony at a " lope " ; his calico 
shirt, his gaudy sash, and the gay handkerchief bound 
around his snaky hair, fluttering in the wind. At noon 
we stopped to rest not far from a little creek, replete with 
frogs and young turtles. There had been an Indian encamp- 

20 ment at the place, and the framework of the lodges still re- 
mained, enabling us very easily to gain a shelter from the sun, 
by merely spreading one or two blankets over them. Thus 
shaded, we sat upon our saddles, and Shaw for the first time 
lighted his favorite Indian pipe ; while Deslauriers was 

25 squatted over a hot bed of coals, shading his eyes with one 
hand, and holding a little stick in the other, with which he 
regulated the hissing contents of the frying-pan. The horses 
were turned to feed among the scattered bushes of a low 
oozy meadow. A drowsy spring-like sultriness pervaded the 

30 air, and the voices of ten thousand young frogs and insects, 
just awakened into life, rose in varied chorus from the creek 
and the meadows. 

Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. This 
was an old Kanzas Indian ; a man of distinction, if one 
might judge from his dress. His head was shaved and 



BREAKING THE ICE 13 

painted red, and from the tuft of hair remaining on the 
crown dangled several eagle's feathers, and the tails of two 
or three rattlesnakes. His cheeks, too, were daubed with 
vermilion ; his ears were adorned with green glass pend- 
ants ; a collar of grizzly bears' claws surrounded his neck, 5 
and several large necklaces of wampum hung on his breast. 
Having shaken us by the hand with a grunt of salutation, 
the old man, dropping his red blanket from his shoulders, 
sat down cross-legged on the ground. We offered him a cup 
of sweetened water, at which he ejaculated " Good ! " and lo 
was beginning to tell us how great a man he was, and how 
many Pawnees he had killed, when suddenly a motley con- 
course appeared wading across the creek towards us. They 
filed past in rapid succession, men, women, and children : 
some were on horseback, some on foot, but all were alike 15 
squalid and wretched. Old squaws, mounted astride of 
shaggy, meagre little ponies, with perhaps one or two snake- 
eyed children seated behind them, clinging to their tattered 
blankets ; tall lank young men on foot, with bows and arrows 
in their hands ; and girls whose native ugliness not all the 20 
charms of glass beads and scarlet cloth could disguise, made 
up the procession ; although here and there was a man who, 
like our visitor, seemed to hold some rank in this respect- 
able community. They were the dregs of the Kanzas nation, 
who, while their betters were gone to hunt the buffalo, had 25 
left the village on a begging expedition to Westport. 

When this ragamuffin horde had passed, we caught our 
horses, saddled, harnessed, and resumed our journey. Ford- 
ing the creek, the low roofs of a number of rude buildings 
appeared, rising from a cluster of groves and woods on the 30 
left ; and riding up through a long lane amid a profusion 
of wild roses and early spring flowers, we found the log- 
church and schoolhouses belonging to the Methodist Shaw- 
anoe Mission. The Indians were on the point of gathering 
to a religious meeting. Some scores of them, tall men in 



14 THE OREGON TRAIL 

half-civilized dress, were seated on wooden benches under the 
trees ; while their horses were tied to the sheds and fences. 
Their chief, Parks, a remarkably large and athletic man, had 
just arrived from Westport, where he owns a trading estab- 

5 lishment. Besides, this, he has a large farm and a consider- 
able number of slaves. Indeed, the Shawanoes have made 
greater progress in agriculture than any other tribe on the 
Missouri frontier, and both in appearance and in character 
form a marked contrast to our late acquaintance, the Kanzas. 

10 A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the river 
Kanzas. Traversing the woods that lined it, and ploughing 
through the deep sand, we encamped not far from the bank, 
at the Lower Delaware crossing. Our tent was erected for 
the first time, on a meadow close to the woods, and the camp 

15 preparations being complete, we began to think of supper. 
An old Delaware woman, of some three hundred pounds' 
weight, sat in the porch of a little log-house, close to the 
water, and a very pretty half-breed girl was engaged, under 
her superintendence, in feeding a large flock of turkeys that 

20 were fluttering and gobbling about the door. But no offers 
of money, or even of tobacco, could induce her to part with 
one of her favorites : so I took my rifle, to see if the woods 
or the river could furnish us anything. A multitude of 
quails were plaintively whistling in the meadows ; but noth- 

25 ing appropriate to the rifle was to be seen, except three 
buzzards, seated on the spectral limbs of an old dead syca- 
more, that thrust itself out over the river from the dense 
sunny wall of fresh foliage. Their ugly heads were drawn 
down between their shoulders, and they seemed to luxuriate 

30 in the soft sunshine that was pouring from the west. As 
they offered no epicurean temptations, I refrained from dis- 
turbing their enjoyment ; but contented myself with admir- 
ing the calm beauty of the sunset, — for the river, eddying 
swiftly in deep purple shadows between the impending 
woods, formed a wild but tranquillizing scene. . 



BREAKING THE ICE 15 

When I returned to the camp, I found Shaw and an old 
Indian seated on the ground in close conference passing the 
pipe between them. The old man was ex})laining that he 
loved the whites, and had an especial partiality for tobacco. 
Deslauriers was arranging upon the ground our service of 5 
tin cups and plates ; and as other viands were not to be had, 
he set before us a repast of biscuit and bacon, and a large 
pot of coffee. Unsheathing our knives, we attacked it, dis- 
posed of the greater part, and tossed the residue to the 
Indian. Meanwhile our horses, now hobbled for the first lo 
time, stood among the trees, with their fore-legs tied to- 
gether, in great disgust and astonishment. They seemed 
by no means to relish this foretaste of what awaited them. 
Mine, in particular, had conceived a mortal aversion to the 
prairie life. One of them, christened Hendrick, an animal 15 
whose strength and hardihood were his only merits, and 
who yielded to nothing but the cogent arguments of the 
whip, looked toward us with an indignant countenance, as 
if he meditated avenging his wrongs with a kick. The other, 
Pontiac, a good horse, though of plebeian lineage, stood with 20 
his head drooping and his mane hanging about his eyes, 
with the grieved and sulky air of a lubberly boy sent off to *-^ 
school. His forebodings were but too just ; for when I last 
heard from him, he was under the lash of an Ogillallah 
brave, on a war-party against the Crows. 25 

As it grew dark and the voices of the whippoorwills suc- 
ceeded the whistle of the quails, we removed our saddles to 
the tent to serve as pillows, spread our blankets upon the 
ground, and prepared to bivouac for the first time that season. 
Each man selected the place in the tent which he was to oc- 3o 
cupy for the journey. To Deslauriers, however, was assigned 
the cart into which he could creep in wet weather, and find 
a much better shelter than his bourgeois enjoyed in the tent. 

The river Kanzas at this })oint forms the boundary-line 
between the country of the Shawanoes and that of the 



16 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Delawares. We crossed it on the following day, rafting over 
our horses and equipments with much difficulty, and un- 
lading our cart in order to make our way up the steep ascent 
on the farther bank. It was a Sunday morning; warm, 

5 tranquil, and bright; and a perfect stillness reigned over 
the rough enclosures and neglected fields of the Delawares, 
except the ceaseless hum and chirruping of myriads of in- 
sects. Now and then an Indian rode past on his way to the 
meeting-house, or, through the dilapidated entrance of some 

10 shattered log-house, an old woman might be discerned en- 
joying all the luxury of idleness. There was no village bell, 
for the Delawares have none ; and yet upon that forlorn 
and rude settlement was the same spirit of Sabbath repose 
and tranquillity as in some New England village among the 

15 mountains of New Hampshire, or the Vermont woods. 

A military road led from this point to Fort Leavenworth, 
and for many miles the farms and cabins of the Delawares 
were scattered at short intervals on either hand. The little 
rude structures of logs erected usually on the borders of a 

20 tract of woods made a picturesque feature in the landscape. 
But the scenery needed no foreign aid. Nature had done 
enough for it ; and the alternation of rich green prairies and 
groves that stood in clusters, or lined the banks of the 
numerous little streams, had all the softened and polished 

25 beauty of a region that has been for centuries under the hand 
of man. At that early season, too, it was in the height of 
its freshness. The woods were flushed with the red buds of 
the maple ; there were frequent flowering shrubs unknown 
in the east ; and the green swells of the prairie were 

30 thickly studded with blossoms. 

Encamping near a spring, by the side of a hill, we re- 
sumed our journey in the morning, and early in the after- 
noon were within a few miles of Fort Leavenworth. The 
road crossed a stream densely bordered with trees, and run- 
ning in the bottom of a deep woody hollow. We were about 



BREAKING THE ICE 17 

to descend into it when a wild and confused procession ap- 
peared, passing through the Water below, and coming up the 
steep ascent towards us. We stopped to let them pass. They 
were Dela.wares, just returned from a hunting expedition. 
All, both men and women, were mounted on horseback, and 5 
drove along with them a considerable number of pack-mules, 
laden with the furs^ they had taken, together with the 
buffalo-robes, kettles, and othet articles of their travelling 
equipment, which, as well as their clothing and their weap- 
ons, had a worn and dingy look, as if they had seen hard 10 
service of late. At the rear of the party was an old man, 
who, as he came up, stopped his horse to speak to us. He 
rode a tough shaggy pony, with mane and tail well knotted . 
with burrs, and a rusty Spanish bit in its mouth, to which, hy 
way of reins, was attached a string of raw hide. His saddle, 15 
robbed probably from a Mexican, had no covering, being 
merely a tree of the Spanish form, with a piece of grizzly 
bear's skin laid over it, a pair of rude wooden stirrups at- 
tached, and, in the absence of girth, a thong of hide passing 
around the horse's belly. The rider's dark features and keen 20 
snaky eye were unequivocally Indian. He wore a buckskin 
frock, which, like his fringed leggins, was well polished and 
blackened by grease and long service, and an old handker- 
chief was tied around his head. Resting on the saddle be- 
fore him lay his rifle, a . weapon in the use of which |he 25 
Delawares are skilful, though, from its weight, the distant 
prairie Indians are too lazy to carry it. 

'' Who 's your chief ? " he immediately inquired. 

Henry Chatillon pointed to us. The old Delaware fixed 
his eyes intently upon us for a moment, and then senten- 30 
tiously remarked, — 

" No good ! Too young ! " With this flattering comment 
he left us and rode after his people. 

This tribe, the Delawares, once the peaceful allies of 
William Penn, the tributaries of the conquering Iroquois, 



18 THE OKEGON TRAIL 

are now the most adventurous and dreaded warriors upon 
the prairies. They make war upon remote tribes, the very 
names of which were unknown to their fathers in their 
ancient seats in Pennsylvania, and they push these new 

5 quarrels with true Indian rancor, sending out their war- 
parties as far as the Eocky Mountains, and into the Mexi- 
can territories. Their neighbors and former confederates, 
the Shawanoes, who are tolerable farmers, are in a prosper- 
ous condition ; but the Delawares dwindle every year, from 

10 the number of men lost in their warlike expeditions. 

Soon after leaving this party we saw, stretching on the 
right, the forests that follow the course of the Missouri, and 
the deep woody channel through which at this point it runs. 
At. a distance in front were the white barracks of Fort 

15 Leavenworth, just visible through the trees upon an emi- 
nence above a bend of the river. A wide green meadow, as 
level as a lake, lay between us and the Missouri, and upon 
this, close to a line of trees that bordered a little brook, 
stood the tent of the captain and his companions, with their 

20 horses feeding around it ; but they themselves were invisi- 
ble. Wright, their muleteer, was there, seated on the tongue 
of the wagon, repairing his harness. Boisve.rd stood clean- 
ing his rifle at the door of the tent, and Sorel lounged idly 
about. On closer examination, however, we discovered the 

25 captain's brother. Jack, sitting in. the tent, at his old occu- 
pation of splicing trail-ropes. He welcomed us in his broad 
Irish brogue, and said that his brother was fishing in the 
river, and K gone to the garrison. They returned be- 
fore sunset. JNleanwhile we pitched our own tent not far 

30 off, and after supper a council was held, in which it was re- 
solved to remain one day at Fort Leavenworth, and on the 
next to bid a final adieu to the frontier, or, in the phrase- 
ology of the region, to '' jump off." Our deliberations were 
conducted by the ruddy light from a distant swell of the 
prairie where the long dry grass of last summer was on fire. 



CHAPTER III 
FORT LEAVENWORTH 

On the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth. 
Colonel, now General Kearney, to whom I had had the 
honor of an introduction when at St. Louis, was just arrived, 
and received us at his quarters with the courtesy habitual 
to him. Fort Leavenworth is in fact no fort, being without 5 
defensive works, except two blockhouses. No rumors of war 
had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. In the square grassy 
area, surrounded by barracks and the quarters of the officers, 
the men were passing and repassing, or lounging among the 
trees ; although not many weeks afterwards it presented a 10 
different scene, for here the offscourings of the frontier 
were congregated for the expedition against Santa Fe. 

Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the Kicka- 
poo village, five or six miles beyond. The path, a rather 
dubious and uncertain one, led us along the ridge of high 15 
bluffs that border the Missouri ; and, by looking to the right 
or to the left, we could enjoy a strange contrast of scenery. 
On the left stretched the prairie, rising into swells and un- 
dulations, thickly sprinkled with groves, or gracefully ex- 
panding into wide grassy basins, of miles in extent ; while 20 
its curvatures, swelling against the horizon, were often sur- 
mounted by lines of sunny woods ; a scene to which the 
freshness of the season and the peculiar mellowness of the 
atmosphere gave additional softness. Below us, on the right, 
was a tract of ragged and broken woods. We could look 25 
down on the tops of the trees, some living and some dead ; 
some erect, others leaning at every angle, and others piled 
in masses together by the passage of a hurricane. Beyond 

19 



20 THE OREGON TRAIL 

their extreme verge the turbid waters of the Missouri were 
discernible through the boughs, rolling powerfully along at 
the foot of the woody declivities on its farther bank. 

The path soon after led inland ; and, as we crossed an open 

6 meadow, we saw a cluster of buildings on a rising ground 
before us, with a crowd of people surrounding them. They 
were the storehouse, cottage, and stables of the Kickapoo 
trader's establishment. Just at that moment, as it chanced, 
he was beset with half the Indians of the settlement. They 

10 had tied their wretched, neglected little ponies by dozens 
along the fences and out-houses, and were either lounging 
about the place, or crowding into the trading-house. Here 
were faces of various colors : red, green, white, and black, 
curiously intermingled and disposed over the visage in a 

15 variety of patterns. Calico shirts, red and blue blankets, 
brass ear-rings, wampum necklaces, appeared in profusion. 
The trader was a blue-eyed, open-faced man, who neither in 
his manners nor his appearance betrayed any of the rough- 
ness of the frontier ; though just at present he was obliged 

20 to keep a lynx eye on his customers, who, men and women, 
were climbing on his counter, and seating themselves among 
his boxes and bales. 

The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently illus- 
trated the condition of its unfortunate and self-abandoned 

25 occupants. Fancy to yourself a little swift stream, working 
its devious way down a woody valley ; sometimes wholly 
hidden under logs and fallen trees, sometimes spreading 
into a broad, clear pool ; and on its banks, in little nooks 
cleared away among the trees, miniature log-houses, in 

30 utter ruin and neglect. A labyrinth of narrow, obstructed 
paths connected these habitations one with another. Some- 
times we met a stray calf, a pig, or a pony, belonging to 
some of the villagers, who usually lay in the sun in front of 
their dwellings, and looked on us with cold, suspicious eyes 
as we approached. Farther on, in place of the log-huts of 



FORT LEAVENWORTH 21 

the Kickapoos, we found the j^ukwi lodges of their neigh- 
bors, the Pottawattamies, whose condition seemed no better 
than theirs. 

Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excessive 
heat and sultriness of the day, we returned to our friend, 5 
the trader. By this time the crowd around him had dis- 
persed, and left him at leisure. He invited us to his cottage, 
a little white-and-green building, in the style of the old 
French settlements, and ushered us into a neat, well-fur- 
nished room. The blinds were closed, and the heat and lo 
glare of the sun excluded ; the room was as cool as a cavern. 
It was neatly carpeted, too, and furnished in a manner that 
we hardly expected on the frontier. The sofas, chairs, 
tables, and a well-filled bookcase would not have disgraced 
an eastern city, though there were one or two little tokens 15 
that indicated the rather questionable civilization of the 
region. A pistol, loaded and capped, lay on the mantel- 
piece ; and through the glass of the bookcase, peeping above 
the works of John Milton, glittered the handle of a very 
mischievous-looking knife. 20 

Our host went out, and returned with iced water, glasses, 
and a bottle of excellent claret, — a refreshment most wel- 
come in the extreme heat of the day ; and soon after ap- 
peared a merry, laughing woman, who must have been, a 
year or two before, a very rich specimen of Creole beauty. 25 
She came to say that lunch was ready in the next room. 
Our hostess evidently lived on the sunny side of life, and 
troubled herself with none of its cares. She sat down and 
entertained us while we were at table with anecdotes of fish- 
ing-parties, frolics, and the officers at the fort. Taking 30 
leave at length of the hospitable trader and his friend, we 
rode back to the garrison. 

Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to call upon 
Colonel Kearney. I found him still at table. There sat our 
friend the captain, in the same remarkable habiliments in 



22 THE OREGON TRAIL 

which we saw him at Westport ; the black pipe, however, 
being for the present laid aside. He dangled his little cap in 
his hand, and talked of steeple-chases, touching occasionally 
upon his anticipated exploits in buffalo-hunting. There, 

5 too, was R , somewhat more elegantly attired. For the 

last time, we tasted the luxuries of civilization, and drank 
adieus to it in wine good enough to make us regret the 
leave-taking. Then, mounting, we rode together to the 
camp, where everything was in readiness for departure on 

10 the morrow. 



CHAPTER IV 
"JUMPING OFF" 

Our transatlantic companions were well equipped for 
the journey. They had a wagon drawn by six mules, and 
crammed with provisions for six months, besides ammuni- 
tion enough for a regiment ; spare rifles and fowling- 
pieces, ropes and harness, personal baggage, and a miscella- 5 
neous assortment of articles, which produced infinite 
embarrassment. They had also decorated their persons with 
telescopes and portable compasses, and carried English 
double-barrelled rifles of sixteen to the pound calibre, 
slung to their saddles in dragoon fashion. lo 

By sunrise on the twenty-third of May we had break- 
fasted; the tents were levelled, the animals saddled and 
harnessed, and all was prepared. ''Avance done! get up!" 
cried Deslauriers to his mule. Wright, our friends' mule- 
teer, after some swearing and lashing, got his insubordinate 15 
train in motion, and then the whole party filed from the 
ground. Thus we bade a long adieu to bed and board, and 
the principles of Blackstone's Commentaries. The day was 
a most auspicious one ; and yet Shaw and I felt certain mis- 
givings, which in the sequel proved but too well founded. 20 

We had just learned that though R had taken it upon 

him to adopt this course without consulting us, not a single 
man in the party knew the way ; and the absurdity of the 
proceeding soon became manifest. His plan was to strike 
the trail of several companies of dragoons, who last summer 25 
had made an expedition under Colonel Kearney to Eort 
Laramie, and by this means to reach the grand trail of the 
Oregon emigrants up tlie Platte. 

23 



24 THE OREGON TRAIL 

We rode for an hour or two, when a familiar cluster of 
buildings appeared on a little hill. '' Hallo ! " shouted the 
Kickapoo trader from over his fence, " where are you going? " 
A few rather emphatic exclamations might have been heard 
5 among us, when we found that we had gone miles out of our 
way, and were not advanced an inch toward the Kocky Moun- 
tains. So we turned in the direction the trader indicated ; and 
with the sun for a guide, began to trace a " bee-line " across 
the prairies. We struggled through copses and lines of wood ; 
10 we waded brooks and pools of water ; we traversed prairies 
as green as an emerald, expanding before us mile after mile, 
wider and more wild than the wastes Mazeppa rode over. 

" Man nor brute, 
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, 
15 Lay in the wild luxuriant soil ; 

No sign of travel ; none of toil ; 
The very air was mute." 

Biding in advance, as we passed over one of these great 
plains, we looked back and saw the line of scattered horse- 

20 men stretching for a mile or more; and, far in the rear, 
against the horizon, the white wagons creeping slowly along. 
" Here we are at last ! " shouted the captain. And, in truth, 
we had struck upon the traces of a large body of horse. We 
turned joyfully and followed this new course, with tempers 

25 somewhat improved ; and towards sunset encamped on a 
high swell of the prairie, at the foot of which a lazy stream 
soaked along through clumps of rank grass. It was getting 
dark. We turned the horses loose to feed. "Drive down 
the tent-pickets hard," said Henry Chatillon ; '' it is going 

30 to blow." We did so, and secured the tent as well as we 
could ; for the sky had changed totally, and a fresh damp 
smell in the wind warned us that a stormy night was 
likely to succeed the hot, clear day. The prairie also 
wore a new aspect, and its vast swells had grown black and 
sombre under the shadow of the clouds. The thunder soon 



"JUMPING OFF" 25 

began to growl at a distance. Picketing and hobbling the 
horses among the rich grass at the foot of the slope where 
we encamped, we gained a shelter just as the rain began to 
fall ; and sat at the opening of the tent, watching the pro- 
ceedings of the captain. In defiance of the rain, he was 5 
stalking among the horses, wrapped in an old Scotch plaid. 
An extreme solicitude tormented him, lest some of his favor- 
ites should escape, or some accident should befall them ; and 
he cast an anxious eye towards three wolves who were 
sneaking along over the dreary surface of the plain, as if 10 
he dreaded some hostile demonstration on their part. 

On the next morning we had gone but a mile or two when 
we came to an extensive belt of woods, through the midst 
of which ran a stream, wide, deep, and of an appearance 
particularly muddy and treacherous. Deslauriers was in ad- 15 
vance with his cart; he jerked his pipe from his mouth, 
lashed his mules, and poured forth a volley of Canadian 
ejaculations. In plunged the cart, but midway it stuck fast. 
He leaped out knee-deep in water, and, by dint of sacres 
and a vigorous application of the whip, urged the mules out 20 
of the slough. Then approached the long team and heavy 
wagon of our friends ; but it paused on the brink. 

"Now my advice is — " began the captain, who had been 
anxiously contemplating the muddy gulf. 

" Drive on ! " cried R . - 25 

But Wright, the muleteer, apparently had not as yet de- 
cided the point in his own mind ; and he sat still in his seat, 
on one of the shaft-mules, whistling in a low contemplative 
strain to himself. 

" My advice is," resumed the captain, " that we unload ; for 30 
I '11 bet any man five pounds that if we try to go through 
we shall stick fast." 

" By the powers, we shall stick fast ! " echoed Jack, the 
captain's brother, shaking his large head with an air of firm 
conviction. 



26 THE OREGON TRAIL 

" Drive on l drive on ! " cried R , petulantly. 

'' Well," observed the captain, turning to us as we sat 
looking on, much edified by this by-play among our con- 
federates, '' I can only give my advice, and if people won't 

5 be reasonable, why, they won't, that 's all ! " 

Meanwhile Wright had apparently made up his mind; 
for he suddenly began to shout forth a volley of oaths and 
curses, that, compared with the French imprecations of Des- 
lauriers, sounded like the roaring of heavy cannon after the 

10 popping and sputtering of a bunch of Chinese crackers. At 
the same time he discharged a shower of blows upon his 
mules, who hastily dived into the mud, and drew the wagon 
lumbering after them. For a moment the issue was doubt- 
ful. Wright writhed about in his saddle, and swore and 

15 lashed like a madman ; but who can count on a team of 
half-broken mules ? At the most critical point, when all 
should have been harmony and combined effort, the perverse 
brutes fell into disorder, and huddled together in confusion 
on the farther bank. There was the wagon up to the hub 

20 in mud, and visibly settling every instant. There was noth- 
ing for it but to unload ; then to dig away the mud from be- 
fore the wheels with a spade, and lay a causeway of bushes 
and branches. This agi-eeable labor accomplished, the wagon 
at length emerged; but as some interruption of this sort 

25 occurred at least four or five times a day for a fortnight, our 

progress towards the Platte was not without its obstacles. 

We travelled six or seven miles farther, and " nooned " 

near a brook. On the point of resuming our journey, when 

the horses were all driven down to water, my homesick 

30 charger, Pontiac, made a sudden leap across, and set off at 
a round trot for the settlements. I mounted my remaining 
horse and started in pursuit. Making a circuit, I headed the 
runaway, hoping to drive him back to camp, but he instantly 
broke into a gallop, made a wide tour on the prairie, and got 
by me again. I tried this plan repeatedly with the same 



^•JUMPING OFF" 27 

result ; Pontiac was evidently disgusted with the prairie, so I 
abandoned it and tried another, trotting along gently behind 
him, in hopes that I might quietly get near enough to seize 
the trail-rope which was fastened to his neck, and dragged 
about a dozen feet behind him. The chase grew interesting. 5 
For mile after mile I followed the rascal with the utmost 
care not to alarm him, and gradually got nearer, until at 
length old Hendrick's nose was fairly brushed by the whisk- 
ing tail of the unsuspecting Pontiac. Without drawing rein 
I slid softly to the ground ; but my long heavy rifle encum- lo 
bered me, and the low sound it made in striking the horn 
of the saddle startled him, he pricked up his ears and sprang 
off at a run. "My friend," thought I, remounting, "do that 
again and I will shoot you ! " 

Fort Leavenworth was about forty miles distant, and 15 
thither I determined to follow him. I made up my mind to 
spend a solitary and supperless night, and then set out again 
in the morning. One hope, however, remained. The creek 
where the wagon had stuck was just before us ; Pontiac 
might be thirsty with his run and stop there to drink. I 20 
kept as near him as possible, taking every precaution not to 
alarm him again ; and the result proved as I had hoped, for 
he walked deliberately among the trees and stooped down 
to the water. I alighted, dragged old Hendrick through the 
mud, and with a feeling of infinite satisfaction picked up 25 
the slimy trail-rope, and twisted it three times round my 
hand. "Now let me see you get away again ! " I thought, 
as I remounted. But Pontiac was exceedingly reluctant to 
turn back ; Hendrick, too, who had evidently flattered him- 
self with vain hopes, showed the utmost repugnance, and 30 
grumbled in a manner peculiar to himself at being com- 
pelled to face about. A smart cut of the whip restored his 
cheerfulness ; and, dragging the recovered truant behind, I 
set out in search of the camp. An hour or two elapsed, 
when, near sunset, I saw the tents, standing on a swell of 



28 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the prairie, beyond a line of woods, while the bands of 
horses were feeding in a low meadow close at hand. There 
sat Jack C , cross-legged, in the sun, splicing a trail- 
rope ; and the rest were lying on the grass, smoking and 
5 telling stories. That night we enjoyed a serenade from the 
wolves, more lively than any with which they had yet fa- 
vored us ; and in the morning one of the musicians appeared, 
not many rods from the tents, quietly seated among the 
horses, looking at us with a pair of large gray eyes ; but 

10 perceiving a rifle levelled at him, he leaped up and made 
off in hot haste. 

I pass by the following day or two of our journey, for 
nothing occurred worthy of record. Should any one of my 
readers ever be impelled to visit the prairies, and should he 

15 choose the route of the Platte (the best, perhaps, that can 
be adopted), I can assure him that he need not think to en- 
ter at once upon the paradise of his imagination. A dreary 
preliminary, a protracted crossing of the threshold, awaits 
him before he finds himself fairly upon the verge of the 

20 " great American desert," — those barren wastes, the haunts 
of the buffalo and the Indian, where the very shadow of 
civilization lies a hundred leagues behind him. The inter- 
vening country, the wide and fertile belt that extends for 
several hundred miles beyond the extreme frontier, will 

25 probably answer tolerably well to his preconceived ideas of 
the prairie ; for this it is from which picturesque tourists, 
painters, poets, and novelists, who have seldom penetrated 
farther, have derived their conceptions of the whole region. 
If he has a painter's eye, he may find his period of proba- 

30 tion not wholly void of interest. The scenery, though tame, 
is graceful and pleasing. Here are level plains, too wide 
for the eye to measure ; green undulations, like motionless 
swells of the ocean ; abundance of streams, followed through 
all their windings by lines of woods and scattered groves. 
But let him be as enthusiastic as he may, he will find 



"JUMPING OFF" 29 

enough to damp his ardoij. His wagons will stick in the 
mud ; his horses will break loose ; harness will give way ; 
and axle-trees prove unsound. His bed will be a soft one, 
consisting often of black mud of the richest consistency. As 
for food, he must content himself with biscuit and salt pro- 5 
visions ; for, strange as it may seem, this tract of country 
produces very little game. As he advances, indeed, he will 
see, mouldering in the grass by his path, the vast antlers of 
the elk, and farther on the whitened skulls of the buffalo, 
once swarming over this now deserted region. Perhaps, like lo 
us, he may journey for a fortnight, and see not so much as 
the hoof-print of a deer ; in the spring, not even a prairie- 
hen is to be had. 

Yet, to compensate him for this unlooked-for deficiency 
of game, he will find himself beset with " varmints " innu- 15 
merable. The wolves will entertain him with a concert at 
night, and skulk around him by day, just beyond rifle-shot ; 
his horse will step into badger-holes ; from every marsh and 
mud-puddle will arise the bellowing, croaking, and trilling 
of legions of frogs, infinitely various in color, shape, and 20 
dimensions. A profusion of snakes will glide away from 
under his horse's feet, or quietly visit him in his tent at 
night; while the pertinacious humming of unnumbered ^ 
mosquitoes will banish sleep from his eyelids. When, thirsty 
with a long ride in the scorching sun over some boundless 25 
reach of prairie, he comes at length to a pool of water, and 
alights to drink, he discovers a troop of young tadpoles 
sporting in the bottom of his cup. Add to this, that, all the 
morning, the sun beats upon him with a sultry, penetrating 
heat, and that, with provoking regularity, at about four 30 
o'clock in the afternoon, a thunderstorm rises and drenches 
him to the skin. 

One day, after a protracted morning's ride, we stopped to 
rest at noon upon the open prairie. No trees were in sight ; 
but close at hand a little dribbling brook was twisting from 



30 THE OREGON TRAIL 

side to side through a hollow; now forming holes of stag- 
nant water, and now gliding over the mud in a scarcely per- 
ceptible current, among a growth of sickly bushes, and great 
clumps of tall rank grass. The day was excessively hot and 
5 oppressive. The horses and mules were rolling on the prairie 
to refresh themselves, or feeding among the bushes in the 
hollow. We had dined ; and Deslauriers, puffing at his pipe, 
knelt on the grass, scrubbing our service of tin-plate. Shaw 
lay in the shade, under the cart, to rest for a while before 
10 the word should be given to '' catch up." Henry Chatillon, 
before lying down, was looking about for signs of snakes, the 
only living things that he feared, and uttering various ejacu- 
lations of disgust at finding several suspicious-looking holes 
close to the cart. I sat leaning against the wheel in a scanty 
15 strip of shade, making a pair of hobbles to replace those 
which my contumacious steed Pontiac had broken the night 
before. The camp of our friends, a rod or two distant, pre- 
sented the same scene of lazy tranquillity. 

" Hallo ! " cried Henry, looking up from his inspection of 
20 the snake-holes, " here comes the old captain." 

The captain approached, and stood for a moment contem- 
plating us in silence. 

" I say, Parkman," he began, " look at Shaw there, asleep 
under the cart, with the tar dripping off the hub of the 
25 wheel on his shoulder." 

At this Shaw got up, with his eyes half opened, and feel- 
ing the part indicated, found his hand glued fast to his red 
flannel shirt. 

"He'll look well, when he gets among the squaws, won't 
30 he ? " observed the captain, with a grin. 

He then crawled under the cart, and began to tell stories, 
of which his stock was inexhaustible. Yet every moment 
he would glance nervously at the horses. At last he jumped 
up in great excitement. " See that horse ! There ^ — that 
fellow just walking over the hill ! By Jove ! he 's off. It 's 



"JUMPING OFF" 31 

your big horse, Shaw ; no, it is n't, it 's Jack's. Jack ! Jack ! 
hallo, Jack ! " Jack, thus invoked, jumped up and stared 
vacantly at us. 

" Go and catch your horse, if you don't want to lose him," 
roared the captain. 5 

Jack instantly set off at a run through the grass, his broad 
trousers flapping about his feet. The captain gazed anxiously 
till he saw that the horse was caught ; then he sat down, 
with a countenance of thoughtfulness and care. 

" I tell you what it is," he said, " this will never do at all. lo 
We shall lose every horse in the band some day or other, 
and then a pretty plight we should be in ! Now I am con- 
vinced that the only way for us is to have every man in the 
camp stand horse-guard in rotation whenever we stop. Sup- 
posing a hundred Pawnees should jump up out of that ravine, 15 
all yelling and flapping their buffalo robes, in the way they 
do ! Why, in two minutes, not a hoof would be in sight." 
We reminded the captain that a hundred Pawnees would 
probably demolish the horse-guard if he were to resist their 
depredations. 20 

" At any rate," pursued the captain, evading the point, 
" our whole system is wrong ; I 'm convinced of it ; it is to- 
tally unmilitary. Why, the way we travel, strung out 
over the prairie for a mile, an enemy might attack the fore- 
most men, and cut them off before the rest could come up." 25 

'' We are not in an enemy's country yet," said Shaw ; 
" when we are, we'll travel together." 

" Then," said the captain, " we might be attacked in camp. 
We've no sentinels; we 'camp in disorder; no ^precautions 
at all to guard against surprise. My own convictions are, 30 
that we ought to 'camp in a hollow-square, with the fires in 
the centre ; and have sentinels, and a regular password ap- 
pointed for every night. Beside, there should be videttes, 
riding in advance, to find a place for the camp and give 
warning of an enemy. These are my convictions. I don't 



32 THE OREGON TRAIL 

want to dictate to any man. I give advice to the best of 
my judgment, that 's all ; and then let people do as they 
please." 

His plan of sending out videttes seemed particularly dear 
5 to him ; and as no one else was disposed to second his views 
on this point, he took it into his head to ride forward that 
afternoon himself. 

'' Come, Parkman,'' said he, " will you go with me ?" 
We set out together, and rode a mile or two in advance. 
10 The captain, in the course of twenty years' service in the 
British army, had seen something of life ; and being natu- 
rally a pleasant fellow, he was a very entertaining companion. 
He cracked jokes and told stories for an hour or two ; until, 
looking back, we saw the prairie behind us stretching away 
15 to the horizon, without a horseman or a wagon in sight. 

" Now," said the captain, '' I think the videttes had better 
stop till the main body comes up." 

I was of the same opinion. There was a thick growth of 
woods just before us, with a stream running through them. 
20 Having crossed this, we found on the other side a level 
meadow, half encircled by the trees ; and, fastening our 
horses to some bushes, we sat down on the grass, while, 
with an old stump of a tree for a target, I began to display 
the superiority of the renowned rifle of the backwoods 
25 over the foreign innovation borne by the captain. At length 
voices could be heard in the distance, behind the trees. 

''There they come," said the captain; "let's go and see 
how they get through the creek." 

We mounted and rode to the bank of the stream, where 

30 the trail crossed it. It ran in a deep hollow, full of trees. 

As we looked down, we saw a confused crowd of horsemen 

> riding through the water ; and among the dingy habiliments 

of our party glittered the uniforms of four dragoons. 

Shaw came whipping his horse up the bank, in advance of 
the rest, with a somewhat indignant countenauce. The first 



•^ 



"JUMPING OFF" 33 

word he spoke was a blessing fervently invoked on the head 

of R , who was riding, with a crestfallen air, in the rear. 

Thanks to the ingenious devices of this gentleman, we had 
missed the track entirely, and wandered, not towards the 
Platte, but to the village of the Iowa Indians. This we 5 
learned from the dragoons, who had lately deserted from 
Fort Leavenworth. They told us that our best plan now 
was to keep to the northward until we should strike the 
trail formed by several parties of Oregon emigrants, who had 
that season set out from St. Joseph, in Missouri. lo 

In extremely bad temper, we encamped on this ill-starred 
spot, while the deserters, whose case admitted of no delay, 
rode rapidly forward. On the day following, striking the 
St. Joseph's trail, we turned our horses' heads towards Fort 
Laramie, then about seven hundred miles to the westward. 15 



CHAPTER V 
THE "BIG BLUE" 

The great medley of Oregon and California emigrants at 
their camps around Independence had heard reports that 
several additional parties were on the point of setting out 
from St. Joseph farther to the northward. The prevailing 
5 impression was that these were Mormons, twenty-three hun- 
dred in number; and a great alarm was excited in conse- 
quence. The people of Illinois and Missouri, who composed 
by far the greater part of the emigrants, have never been on 
the best terms with the '' Latter Day Saints " ; and it is 

10 notorious throughout the country how much blood has been 
spilt in their feuds, even far within the limits of the settle- 
ments. No one could predict what would be the result, when 
large armed bodies of these fanatics should encounter the 
most impetuous and reckless of their old enemies on the 

15 broad prairie, far beyond the reach of law or military force. 
The women and children at Indejjendence raised a great 
outcry ; the men themselves were seriously alarmed ; and, as 
I learned, they sent to Colonel Kearney, requesting an es- 
cort of dragoons as far as the Platte. This was refused ; and, 

20 as the sequel proved, there was no occasion for it. The St. 
Joseph emigrants were as good Christians and as zealous 
Mormon-haters as the rest ; and the very few families of the 
" Saints " who passed out this season by the route of the 
Platte remained behind until the great tide of emigration 

25 had gone by, standing in quite as much awe of the " gen- 
tiles " as the latter did of them. 

We were now upon this St. Joseph trail. It was evident, 
by the traces, that large parties were a few days in advance 

34 



THE "BIG BLUE" 35 

of us ; and as we too supposed them to be Mormons, we 
had some apprehension of interruption. 

The journey was monotonous. One day we rode on for 
hours, without seeing a tree or a bush : before, behind, and 
on either side, stretched the vast expanse, rolling in a sue- 5 
cession of graceful swells, covered with the unbroken carpet 
of fresh green grass. Here and there a crow, a raven, or a 
turkey-buzzard, relieved the uniformity. 

" What shall we do to-night for wood and water ? " we 
began to ask of each other ; for the sun was within an hour lo 
of setting. At length a dark green speck appeared, far off 
on the right : it was the top of a tree, peering over a swell of 
the prairie ; and, leaving the trail, we made all haste towards 
it. It proved to be the vanguard of a cluster of bushes and 
low trees, that surrounded some pools of water in an exten- 15 
sive hollow ; so we encamped on the rising ground near it. 

Shaw and I were sitting in the tent, when Deslauriers 
thrust his brown face and old felt hat into the opening, and, 
dilating his eyes to their utmost extent, announced supper. 
There were the tin cups and the iron spoons, arranged in 20 
order on the grass, and the coffee-pot predominant in the 
midst. The meal was soon despatched ; but Henry Chatillon 
still sat cross-legged, dallying with the remnant of his coffee, 
the beverage in universal use upon the prairie, and an 
especial favorite with him. He preferred it in its virgin 25 
flavor, unimpaired by sugar or cream ; and on the present 
occasion it met his entire approval, being exceedingly strong, 
or, as he expressed it, " right black." 

It was a gorgeous sunset ; and the ruddy glow of the sky 
was reflected from some extensive pools of water among the 30 
shadowy copses in the meadow below. 

'' I must have a bath to-night," said Shaw. " How is it, 
Deslauriers ? Any chance for a swim down there ? " 

" Ah ! I cannot tell ; just as you please. Monsieur," re- 
plied Deslauriers, shrugging his shoulders, perplexed by his 



36 THE OREGON TRAIL 

ignorance of English, and extremely anxious to conform in 
all respects to the opinions and wishes of his bourgeois. 

'' Look at his moccason," said I. It had evidently been 
lately immersed in a profound abyss of black mud. 

5 " Come," said Shaw ; " at any rate we can see for our- 
selves." 

We set out together ; and as we approached the bushes, 
which were at some distance, we found the ground becom- 
ing rather treacherous. We could only get along by step- 

10 ping upon large clumps of tall rank grass, with fathomless 
gulfs between, like innumerable little quaking islands in an 
ocean of mud, where a false step would have involved our 
boots in a catastrophe like that which had befallen Deslau- 
rier's moccasons. The thing looked desperate ; we separated, 

15 to search in different directions, Shaw going off to the right, 
while I kept straight forward. At last I came to the edge of 
the bushes, — they were young water-willows, covered with 
their caterpillar-like blossoms, but intervening between them 
and the last grass-clump was a black and deep slough, over 

20 which, by a vigorous exertion, I contrived to jump. Then 
I shouldered my way through the willows, trampling them 
down by main force, till I came to a wide stream of water, 
three inches deep, languidly creeping along over a bottom 
of sleek mud. My arrival produced a great commotion. 

25 A huge green bull-frog uttered an indignant croak, and 
jumped off the bank with a loud splash; his webbed feet 
twinkled above the surface, as he jerked them energetically 
upward, and I could see him ensconcing himself in the unre- 
sisting slime at the bottom, whence several large air-bubbles 

30 struggled lazily to the top. Some little spotted frogs fol- 
lowed the patriarch's example ; and then three turtles, not 
larger than a dollar, tumbled themselves off a broad " lily 
pad, " where they had been reposing. At the same time a 
snake, gayly striped with black and yellow, glided out from 
the bank, and writhed across to the other side ; and a small 



THE "BIG BLUE" 37 

stagnant pool into which my foot had inadvertently pushed a 
stone was instantly alive with a congregation of black tad- 
poles. 

" Any chance for a bath where you are ? " called out' 
Shaw, from a distance. 5 

The answer was not encouraging. I retreated through the 
willows, and rejoining my companion, we proceeded to push 
our researches in company. Not far on the right, a rising 
ground, covered with trees and bushes, seemed to sink down 
abruptly to the water, and give hope of better success ; so lo 
towards this we directed our steps. When we reached the 
place we found it no easy matter to get along between the 
hill and the water, impeded as we were by a growth of stiff, 
obstinate young birch-trees, laced together by grape-vines. 
In the twilight we now and then, to support ourselves, 15 
snatched at the touch-me-not stem of some ancient sweet- 
brier. Shaw, who was in advance, suddenly uttered an em- 
phatic monosyllable ; and, looking up, I saw him with one 
hand grasping a sapling, and one foot immersed in the 
water, from which he had forgotten to withdraw it, his 20 
whole attention being engaged in contemplating the move- 
ments of a water-snake, about five feet long, curiously check- 
ered with black and green, who was deliberately swimming 
across the pool. There being no stick or stone at hand to 
pelt him with, we looked at l.im for a time in silent disgust, 25 
and then pushed forward. Our perseverance was at last re- 
warded ; for, several rods farther on, we emerged upon a 
little level grassy nook among the brushwood, and by an 
extraordinary dispensation of fortune, the weeds and float- 
ing sticks, which elsewhere covered the pool, seemed to have 30 
drawn apart, and left a few yards of clear water just in front 
of this favored spot. We sounded it Avith a stick ; it was 
four feet deep : we lifted a specimen in our closed hands ; it 
seemed reasonably transparent, so we decided that the time 
for action was arrived. But our ablutions were suddenly 



38 THE OREGON TRAIL 

interrupted by ten thousand punctures, like poisoned needles, 
and the humming of myriads of overgrown mosquitoes, 
rising in all directions from their native mud and swarm- 
ing to the feast. We were fain to beat a retreat with all 

5 possible speed. 

We made towards the tents, much refreshed by the bath, 
which the heat of the weather, joined to our prejudices, had 
rendered very desirable. 

" What 's the matter with the captain ? look at him ! " 

10 said Shaw. The captain stood alone on the prairie, swinging 
his hat violently around his head, and lifting first one foot 
and then the other, without moving from the spot. First he 
looked down to the ground with an air of supreme abhor- 
rence ; then he gazed upward with a perplexed and indig- 

15 nant countenance, as if trying to trace the flight of an unseen 
enemy. We called to know what was the matter ; but he 
replied only by execrations directed against some unknown 
object. We approached, when our ears were saluted by a 
droning sound, as if twenty bee-hives had- been overturned 

20 at once. The air above was full of large black insects, in a 
state of great commotion, and multitudes were flying about 
just above the tops of the grass-blades. 

" Don't be afraid," called the captain, observing us recoil. 
" The brutes won't sting." 

25 At this I knocked one down with my hat, and discovered 
him to be no other than a '' dor-bug " ; and, looking closer, 
we found the ground thickly perforated with their holes. 

We took a hasty leave of this flourishing colony, and 
walking up the rising ground to the tents, found Deslau- 

30 riers's fire still glowing brightly. We sat down around it, and 
Shaw began to expatiate on the admirable facilities for bath- 
ing that we had discovered, recommending the captain by 
all means to go down there before breakfast in the morning. 
The captain was in the act of remarking that he couldn't 
have believed it possible, when he suddenly interrupted 



THE "BIG BLUE" 39 

himself, and clapped his hand to his cheek, exclaiming that 
" those infernal humbugs were at him again." In fact, we 
began to hear sounds as if bullets were humming over our 
heads. In a moment something rapped me sharply on the 
forehead, then upon the neck, and immediately I felt an in- 5 
definite number of sharp wiry claws in active motion, as if 
their owner were bent on pushing his explorations farther. 
I seized him, and dropped him into the fire. Our party 
speedily broke up, and we adjourned to our respective tents, 
where, closing the opening fast, we hoped to be exempt from lo 
invasion. But all precaution was fruitless. The dor-bugs 
hummed through the tent, and marched over our faces until 
daylight; when, opening our blankets, we found several 
dozen clinging there with the utmost tenacity. The first ob- 
ject that met our eyes in the morning was Deslauriers, who 15 
seemed to be apostrophizing his frying-pan, which he held 
by the handle, at arm's length. It appeared that he had 
left it at night by the fire ; and the bottom was now covered 
with dor-bugs, firmly imbedded. Hundreds of others, curi- 
ously parched and shrivelled, lay scattered among the ashes. 20 

The horses and mules were turned loose to feed. We had 
just taken our seats at breakfast, or rather reclined in the 
classic mode, when an exclamation from Henry Chatillon, 
and a shout of alarm from the captain, gave warning of 
some casualty, and looking up, we saw the whole band of 25 
animals, twenty-three in number, filing off for the settle- 
ments, the incorrigible Pontiac at their head, jumping along 
with hobbled feet, at a gait much more rapid than graceful. 
Three or four of us ran to cut them off, dashing as best we 
might through the tall grass, which was glittering with dew- 30 
drops. After a race of a mile or more, Shaw caught a horse. 
Tying the trail-rope by way of bridle round the animal's 
jaw, and leaping upon his back, he got in advance of the 
remaining fugitives, while we, soon bringing them together, 
drove them in a crowd up to the tents, where each man 



40 THE OREGON TRAIL 

caught and saddled his own. Then were heard lamentations 
and curses ; for half the horses had broken their hobbles, 
and many were seriously galled by attempting to run in 
fetters. 

5 It was late that morning before we were on the march; 
and early in the afternoon we were compelled to encamp, for 
a thunder-gust came up and suddenly enveloped us in whirl- 
ing sheets of rain. With much ado we pitched our tents 
amid the tempest, and all night long the thunder bellowed 

10 and growled over our heads. In the morning light peaceful 
showers succeeded the cataracts of rain, that had been 
drenching us through the canvas of our tents. About noon, 
when there were some treacherous indications of fair weather, 
we got in motion again. 

15 Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie ; 
the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where the 
blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect. 
The sun beat down upon us with a sultry, penetrating heat 
almost insupportable, and as our party crept slowly along 

20 over the interminable level, the horses hung their heads as 
they waded fetlock deep through the mud, and the men 
slouched into the easiest position upon the saddle. At last, 
towards evening, the old familiar black heads of thunder- 
clouds rose fast above the horizon, and the same deep mut- 

25 tering of distant thunder that had become the ordinary 
accompaniment of our afternoon's journey began to roll 
hoarsely over the prairie. Only a few minutes elapsed be- 
fore the whole sky was densely shrouded, and the prairie 
and some clusters of woods in front assumed a purple hue 

30 beneath the inky shadows. Suddenly from the densest fold 
of the cloud the flash leaped out, quivering again and again 
down to the edge of the prairie ; and at the same instant 
came the sharp burst and the long rolling peal of the thun- 
der. A cool wind, filled with the smell of rain, just then 
overtook us, levelling the tall grass by the side of the path. 



THE "BIG BLUE" 41 

" Come on ; we must ride for it ! " shouted Shaw, rushing 
by at full speed, his led horse snorting at his side. The 
whole party broke into full gallop, and made for the trees 
in front. Passing these, we found beyond them a meadow 
which they half enclosed. We rode pell-mell upon the 5 
ground, leaped from horseback, tore off our saddles ; and in 
a moment each man was kneeling at his horse's feet. The 
hobbles were adjusted, and the animals turned loose ; then, 
as the wagons came wheeling rapidly to the spot, we seized 
upon the tent-poles, and just as the storm broke, we were 10 
prepared to receive it. It came upon us almost with the 
darkness of night : the trees, which were close at hand, were 
completely shrouded by the roaring torrents of rain. 

We were sitting in the tent when Deslauriers, with his 
broad felt hat hanging about his ears, and his shoulders 15 
glistening with rain, thrust in his head. 

" Voulez-vous du souper, tout de suite ? I can make fire, 
sous la charette — I b'lieve so — I try." 

'' Never mind supper, man ; come in out of the rain." 

Deslauriers accordingly crouched in the entrance, for 20 
modesty would not permit him to intrude farther. 

Our tent was none of the best defence against such a 
cataract. The rain could not enter bodily, but it beat through 
the canvas in a fine drizzle, that wetted us just as effectually. 
We sat upon our saddles with faces of the utmost surliness, 25 
while the water dropped from the visors of our caps, and 
trickled down our cheeks. My india-rubber cloak conducted 
twenty little rapid streamlets to the ground ; and Shaw's 
blanket coat was saturated like a sponge. But what most 
concerned us was the sight of several puddles of water 30 
rapidly accumulating ; one, in particular, that was gathering 
around the tent-pole, threatened to overspread the whole 
area within the tent, holding forth but an indifferent promise 
of a comfortable night's rest. Towards sunset, however, the 
storm ceased as suddenly as it began. A bright streak of 



42 THE OREGON TRAIL 

clear red sky appeared above the western verge of the 
prairie, the horizontal rays of the sinking sun streamed 
through it, and glittered in a thousand prismatic colors 
upon the dripping groves and the prostrate grass. The pools 

5 in the tent dwindled and sunk into the saturated soil. 

But all our hopes were delusive. Scarcely had night set 
in when the tumult broke forth anew. The thunder here is 
not like the tame thunder of the Atlantic coast. Bursting 
with a terrific crash directly above our heads, it roared over 

10 the boundless waste of prairie, seeming to roll around the 
whole circle of the firmament with a peculiar and awful re- 
verberation. The lightning flashed all night, playing with 
its livid glare upon the neighboring trees, revealing the vast 
expanse of the plain, and then leaving us shut in as if by a 

15 palpable wall of darkness. 

It did not disturb us much. Now and then a peal awak- 
ened us, and made us conscious of the electric battle that 
was raging, and of the floods that dashed upon the stanch 
canvas over our heads. We lay upon india-rubber cloths, 

20 placed between our blankets and the soil. For a while they 
excluded the water to admiration ; but when at length it ac- 
cumulated and began to run over the edges, they served 
equally well to retain it, so that towards the end of the night 
we were unconsciously reposing in small pools of rain. 

25 On finally awakening in the morning the prospect was 
not a cheerful one. The rain no longer poured in torrents ; 
but it pattered with a quiet pertinacity upon the strained and 
saturated canvas. We disengaged ourselves from our blan- 
kets, every fibre of which glistened with little bead-like 

30 drops of water, and looked out in the vain hope of discover- 
ing some token of fair weather. The clouds, in lead-colored 
volumes, rested upon the dismal verge of the prairie, or hung 
sluggishly overhead, while the earth wore an aspect no more 
attractive than the heavens, exhibiting nothing but pools of 
water, grass beaten down, and mud well trampled by our 



THE "BIG BLUE" 43 

mules and horses. Our companions' tent, with an air of for- 
lorn and passive misery, and their wagons in like manner 
drenched and woe-begone, stood not far off. The captain 
was just returning from his morning's inspection of the 
horses. He stalked through the mist and rain, with his 5 
plaid around his shoulders, his little pipe, dingy as an 
antiquarian relic, projecting from beneath his moustache, 
and his brother Jack at his heels. 

At noon the sky was clear, and we set out, trailing through 
mud and slime six inches deep. That night we were spared lo 
the customary infliction of the shower-bath. 

On the next afternoon we were moving slowly along, not 
far from a patch of woods which lay on the right. Jack 
C rode a little in advance, — 

"The livelong day he had not spoke "' ; 15 

when suddenly he faced about, pointed to the woods, and 
roared out to his brother, — 

" Bill ! here 's a cow." 

The captain instantly galloped forward, and he and Jack 
made a vain attempt to capture the prize ; but the cow, with 20 
a well-grounded distrust of their intentions, took refuge 

among the trees. K joined them, and they soon drove 

her out. We watched their evolutions as they galloped 
around her, trying in vain to noose her with their trail- 
ropes, which they had converted into lariettes for the occa- 25 
sion. At length they resorted to milder measures, and the 
cow was driven along with the party. Soon after the usual 
thunder-storm came up, the wind blowing with such fury 
that the streams of rain flew almost horizontally along the 
prairie, roaring like a cataract. The horses turned tail to 30 
the storm, and stood hanging their heads, bearing the in- 
fliction with an air of meekness and resignation ; while we 
drew our heads between our shoulders, and crouched for- 
ward, so as to make our backs serve as a pent-house for the 



44 THE OREGON TRAIL 

rest of our persons. Meanwhile the cow, taking advantage 
of the tumult, ran off, to the great discomfiture of the cap- 
tain. In defiance of the storm, he pulled his cap tight over 
his brows, jerked a huge buffalo-pistol from his holster, and 

5 set out at full speed after her. This was the last we saw of 
them for some time, the mist and rain making an im- 
penetrable veil, but at length we heard the captain's shout, 
and saw him looming through the tempest, the picture of 
a Hibernian cavalier, with his cocked pistol held aloft for 

10 safety's sake, and a countenance of anxiety and excitement. 
The cow trotted before him, but exhibited evident signs of 
an intention to run off again, and the captain was roaring to 
us to head her. But the rain had got in behind our coat- 
collars, and was travelling over our necks in numerous little 

15 streamlets, and being afraid to move our heads, for fear of 
admitting more, we sat stiff and immovable, looking at the 
captain askance, and laughing at his frantic movements. At 
last the cow made a sudden plunge and ran off ; the captain 
grasped his pistol firmly, spurred his horse, and galloped 

20 after, with evident designs of mischief. In a moment we 
heard the faint report, deadened by the rain, and then the 
conqueror and his victim reappeared, the latter shot through 
the body, and quite helpless. Not long after, the storm 
moderated, and we advanced again. The cow walked pain- 

25 fully along under the charge of Jack, to whom the captain 
had committed her, while he himself rode forward in his old 
capacity of vidette. We were approaching a long line of 
trees, that followed a stream stretching across our path, 
far in front, when we beheld the vidette galloping towards 

30 us apparently much excited, but with a broad grin on 
his face. 

" Let that cow drop behind ! " he shouted to us ; " here 's 
her owners," 

And, in fact, as we approached the line of trees, a large 
white object, like a tent, was visible behind them. On 



THE "BIG BLUE" 45 

approaching, however, we found, instead of the expected Mor- 
mon camp, nothing but the lonely prairie, and a large white 
rock standing by the path. The cow, therefore, resumed her 
place in our procession. She walked on until we encamped, 

when E , approaching with his English double-barrelled 5 

rifle, took aim at her heart, and discharged into it first one 
bullet and then the other. She was then butchered on the 
most approved principles of woodcraft, and furnished a very 
welcome item to our somewhat limited bill of fare. 

In a day or two more we reached the river called the lo 
" Big Blue." By titles equally elegant, almost all the streams 
of this region are designated. We had struggled through 
ditches and little brooks all that morning ; but on traversing 
the dense woods that lined the banks of the Blue, we found 
that more formidable difficulties awaited us, for the stream, 15 
swollen by the rains, was wide, deep, and rapid. 

No sooner were we on the spot than R flung off his 

clothes, and swam across, or splashed through the shallows, 
with the end of a rope between his teeth. We all looked on 
in admiration, wondering what might be the object of this 20 
energetic preparation ; but soon we heard him shouting : 
" Grive that rope a turn round that stump. You, Sorel ; do 
you hear ? Look sharp, now, Boisverd. Come over to this 
side, some of you, and help me." The men to whom these 
orders were directed paid not the least attention to them, 25 
though they were poured out without pause or intermission. 
Henry Chatillon directed the work, and it proceeded quietly 

and rapidly. R 's sharp brattling voice might have been 

heard incessantly ; and he was leaping about with the ut- 
most activity. His commands were rather amusingly incon- 30 
sistent ; for when he saw that the men would not do as he 
told them, he accommodated himself to circumstances, and 
with the utmost vehemence ordered them to do precisely 
that which they were at the time engaged upon, no doubt rec- 
ollecting the story of Mahomet and the refractory mountain. 



46 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Shaw smiled ; R observed it, and, approaching with a 

countenance of indignation, began to vapor a little, but was 
instantly reduced to silence. 

The raft was at length complete. We piled our goods 

5 upon it, with the exception of our guns, which each man 
chose to retain in his own keeping. Sorel, Boisverd, Wright, 
and Deslauriers took their stations at the four corners, to 
hold it together, and swim across with it ; and in a moment 
more all our earthly possessions were floating on the turbid 

10 waters of the Big Blue. We sat on the bank, anxiously 
watching the result, until we saw the raft safe landed in 
a little cove far down on the opposite bank. The empty 
wagons were easily passed across ; and then, each man 
mounting a horse, we rode through the stream, the stray 

15 animals following of their own accord. 



CHAPTER VI 
THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 

We were now at the end of our solitary journey ings along 
the St. Joseph trail. On the evening of the twenty-third of 
May we encamped near its junction with the old legitimate 
trail of the Oregon emigrants. We had ridden long that 
afternoon, trying in vain to find wood and water, until at 5 
length we saw the sunset sky reflected from a pool encircled 
by bushes and rocks. The water lay in the bottom of a hol- 
low, the smooth prairie gracefully rising in ocean-like swells 
on every side. We pitched our tents by it ; not, however, 
before the keen eye of Henry Chatillon had discerned some lo 
unusual object upon the faintly-defined outline of the dis- 
tant swell. But in the moist, hazy atmosphere of the eve- 
ning, nothing could be clearly distinguished. As we lay 
around the fire after supper, a low and distant sound, strange 
enough amid the loneliness of the prairie, reached our ears, 15 
— peals of laughter, and the faint voices of men and women. 
For eight days we had not encountered a human being, and 
this singular warning of their vicinity had an effect ex- 
tremely impressive. 

About dark a sallow-faced fellow descended the hill on 20 
horseback, and splashing through the pool, rode up to the 
tents. He was enveloped in a huge cloak, and his broad felt 
hat was weeping about his ears with the drizzling moisture 
of the evening. Another followed, a stout, square-built, in- 
telligent-looking man, who announced himself as leader of 25 
an emigrant party, encamped a mile in advance of us. About 
twenty wagons, he said, were with him ; the rest of his party 
were on the other side of the Big Blue, waiting for a woman 

47 



48 THE OREGON TRAIL 

who was in the pains of childbirth, and quarrelling mean- 
while among themselves. 

These were the first emigrants that we had overtaken, al- 
though we had found abundant and melancholy traces of 
5 their progress throughout the course of the journey. Some- 
times we passed the grave of one who had sickened and died 
on the way. The earth was usually torn up, and covered 
thickly with wolf-tracks. Some had escaped this violation. 
One morning, a piece of plank, standing upright on the sum- 
10 mit of a grassy hill, attracted our notice, and riding up to it, 
we found the following words very roughly traced upon it, 
apparently with a red-hot piece of iron : — 

MARY ELLIS 
Died May 7th, 1845 

15 AGED TWO MONTHS 

Such tokens were of common occurrence. 
We were late in breaking up our camp on the following 
morning, and scarcely had we ridden a mile when we saw, 
far in advance of us, drawn against the horizon, a line of ob- 

20 jects stretching at regular intervals along the level edge of 
the prairie. An intervening swell soon hid them from sight, 
until, ascending it a quarter of an hour after, we saw close 
before us the emigrant caravan, with its heavy white wagons 
creeping on in slow procession, and a large drove of cattle 

25 following behind. Half a dozen yellow-visaged Missourians, 
mounted on horseback, were cursing and shouting among 
them, their lank angular proportions enveloped in brown 
homespun, evidently cut and adjusted by the hands of a 
domestic female tailor. As we approached, they called out 

30 to us : " How are ye, boys ? Are ye for Oregon or Cali- 
fornia ? " 

As we i)ushed rapidly by the wagons, children's faces 
were thrust out from the white coverings to look at us ; 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 49 

while the care-worn, thin-featured matron, or the buxom 
girl, seated in front, suspended the knitting on which most 
of them were engaged to stare at us with wondering curi- 
osity. By the side of each wagon stalked the proprietor, 
urging on his patient oxen, who shouldered heavily along, 5 
inch by inch, on their interminable journey. It was easy to 
see that fear and dissension prevailed among them ; some of 
the men — but these, with one exception, were bachelors — 
looked wistfully upon us as we rode lightly and swiftly by, 
and then impatiently at their own lumbering wagons and lo 
heavy-gaited oxen. Others were unwilling to advance at all, 
until the party they had left behind should have rejoined 
them. Many were murmuring against the leader they had 
chosen, and wished to depose him ; and this discontent was 
fomented by some ambitious spirits, who had hopes of sue- 15 
ceeding in his place. The women were divided between re- 
grets for the homes they had left and fear of the deserts and 
savages before them. 

We soon left them far behind, and hojoed that we had 
taken a final leave ; but our companions' wagon stuck so 20 
long in a deep muddy ditch that before it was extricated the 
van of the emigrant caravan appeared again, descending a 
ridge close at hand. Wagon after wagon plunged through 
the mud ; and as it was nearly noon, and the place promised 
shade and water, we saw with satisfaction that they were 25 
resolved to encamp. Soon the wagons were wheeled into a 
circle : the cattle were grazing over the meadow, and the 
men, with sour, sullen faces, were looking about for wood 
and water. They seemed to meet but indifferent success. As 
we left the ground, I saw a tall, slouching fellow, with the 30 
nasal accent of " down east," contemplating the contents of 
his tin cup, which he had just filled with water. 

" Look here, you," said he ; " it 's chock-full of animals ! " 
The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an extraor- 
dinary variety and profusion of animal and vegetable life. 



50 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Riding up the little hill, and looking back on the meadow, 
we could easily see that all was not right in the camp of the 
emigrants. The men were crowded together, and an angry 
discussion seemed to be going forward. R was missing 

5 from his wonted place in the line, and the captain told us 
that he had remained behind to get his horse shod by a 
blacksmith attached to the emigrant party. Something 
whispered in our ears that mischief was on foot ; we kept 
on, however, and coming soon to a stream of tolerable water, 

10 we stopped to rest and dine. Still the absentee lingered be- 
hind. At last, at the distance of a mile, he and his horse 
suddenly appeared, sharply defined against the sky on the 
summit of a hill ; and close behind, a huge white object rose 
slowly into view. 

15 " What is that blockhead bringing with him now ? " 

A moment dispelled the mystery. Slowly and solemnly, 
one behind the other, four long trains of oxen and four emi- 
grant wagons rolled over the crest of the hill and gravely 
descended, while R rode in state in the van. It seems 

20 that, during the process of shoeing the horse, the smothered 
dissensions among the emigrants suddenly broke into open 
rupture. Some insisted on pushing forward, some on remain- 
ing where they were, and some on going back. Kearsley, 
their captain, threw up his command in disgust. '' And now, 

25 boys," said he, '' if any of you are for going ahead, just you 
come along with me." 

Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one small 
child, made up the force of the " go-ahead " faction, and 
R , with his usual proclivity toward mischief, invited them 

30 to join our party. Fear of the Indians — for I can conceive no 
other motive — must have induced him to court so burden- 
some an alliance. At all events, the proceeding was a cool 
one. The men who joined us, it is true, were all that could 
be desired ; rude indeed in manners, but frank, manly, and in- 
telligent. To tell them we could not travel with them was. 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 51 

out of the question. I merely reminded Kearsley that if his 
oxen could not keep up with our mules he must expect to be 
left behind, as we could not consent to be farther delayed on 
the journey ; but he immediately replied, that his oxen 
" should keep up ; and if they could n't, why, he allowed, 5 
he'd find out how to make 'em." 

On the next day, as it chanced, our English companions 
broke the axle-tree of their wagon, and down came the whole 
cumbrous machine lumbering into the bed of a brook. Here 
was a day's work cut out for us. Meanwhile our emigrant lo 
associates kept on their way, and so vigorously did they urge 
forward their powerful oxen, that, what with the broken 
axle-tree and other mishaps, it was full a week before we 
overtook them ; when at length we discovered them, one 
afternoon, crawling quietly along the sandy brink of the 15 
Platte. But meanwhile various incidents occurred to our- 
selves. 

It was probable that at this stage of our journey the 
Pawnees would attempt to rob us. We began therefore to 
stand guard in turn, dividing the night into three watches, 20 
and appointing two men for each. Deslauriers and I held 
guard together. We did not march with military precision 
to and fro before the tents : our discipline was by no means 
so strict. We wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and sat 
down by the fire ; and Deslauriers, combining his culinary 25 
functions with his duties as sentinel, employed himself in 
boiling the head of an antelope for our breakfast. Yet we 
were models of vigilance in comparison with some of the 
party ; for the ordinary practice of the guard was to lay his 
rifle on the ground, and, enveloping his nose in his blanket, 30 
meditate on his mistress, or whatever subject best pleased 
him. This is all well enough when among Indians who do 
not habitually proceed further in their hostility than robbing 
travellers of their horses and mules, though, indeed, a Paw- 
nee's forbearance is not always to be trusted ; but in certain • 



52 THE OREGON TRAIL 

regions farther to the west, the guard must beware how he 
exposes his person to the light of the fire, lest some keen- 
eyed skulking marksman should let fly a bullet or an arrow 
from the darkness. 

5 Among various tales that circulated around our camp-fire 
was one told by Boisverd, and not inappropriate here. He 
was trapping with several companions on the skirts of the 
Blackfoot country. The man on guard, knowing that it be- 
hooved him to put forth his utmost precaution, kept aloof 

10 from the fire-light, and sat watching intently on all sides. 
At length he was aware of a dark, crouching figure, steal- 
ing noiselessly into the circle of the light. He hastily cocked 
his rifle, but the sharp click of the lock caught the ear of the 
Blackfoot, whose senses were all on the alert. Raising his 

15 arrow, already fitted to the string, he shot it in the direction 
of the sound. So sure was his aim, that he drove it through 
the throat of the unfortunate guard, and then, with a loud 
yell, bounded from the camp. 

As I looked at the partner of my watch, puffing and blow- 

20 ing over his fire, it occurred to me that he might not prove 
the most efficient auxiliary in time of trouble. 

'' Deslauriers," said I, '' would you run away if the Paw- 
nees should fire at us ?" 

" Ah ! oui, oui. Monsieur ! " he replied very decisively. 

25 At this instant a whimsical variety of voices, — barks, 
howls, yelps, and whines, — all mingled together, sounded 
from the prairie, not far off, as if a conclave of wolves of 
every age and sex were assembled there. Deslauriers looked 
up from his work with a laugh, and began to imitate this 

30 medley of sounds with a ludicrous accuracy. At this they 
were repeated with redoubled emphasis, the musician being 
apparently indignant at the successful efforts of a rival. 
They all proceeded from the throat of one little wolf, not 
larger than a spaniel, seated by himself at some distance. He 

• was of the species called the prairie-wolf: a grim-visaged, 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 53 

but harmless little brute, whose worst propensity is creeping 
among horses and gnawing the ropes of raw hide by which 
they are picketed around the camp. Other beasts roam the 
prairies, far more formidable in aspect and in character. 
These are the large white and gray wolves, whose deep howl 5 
we heard at intervals from far and near. 

At last I fell into a doze, and awaking from it, found 
Deslauriers fast asleep. Scandalized by this breach of disci- 
pline, I was about to stimulate his vigilance by stirring him 
with the stock of my rifle ; but, compassion prevailing, I de- lo 
termined to let him sleep awhile, and then arouse him to 
administer a suitable reproof for such forgetfulness of duty. 
Now and then I walked the rounds among the silent horses, 
to see that all was right. The night was chill, damp, and dark, 
the dank grass bending under the icy dewdrops. At the dis- 15 
tance of a rod or two the tents were invisible, and nothing 
could be seen but the obscure figures of the horses, deeply 
breathing, and restlessly starting as they slept, or still 
slowly champing the grass. Far off, beyond the black outline 
of the prairie, there was a ruddy light, gradually increasing, 20 
like the glow of a conflagration ; until at length the broad 
disk of the moon, blood-red, and vastly ijiagnified b}^ the 
vapors, rose slowly upon the darkness, flecked by one or two 
little clouds, and as the light poured over the gloomy plain, 
a fierce and stern howl, close at hand, seemed to greet it as 25 
an unwelcome intruder. There was something impressive 
and awful in the place and the hour ; for I and the beasts 
were all that had consciousness for many a league around. 

Some days elapsed, and brought us near the Platte. Two 
men on horseback approached us one morning, and we 30 
watched them with the curiosity and interest that, upon the 
solitude of the plains, such an encounter always excites. 
They were evidently whites, from their mode of riding, 
though, contrary to the usage of that region, neither of them 
carried a rifle. 



' 54 THE OREGON TRAIL 

" Fools ! " remarked Henry Chatillon, " to ride that way 
on the prairie ; Pawnee find them — then they catch it." 

Pawnee had found them, and they had come very near 
" catching it " ; indeed, nothing saved them but the approach 
5 of our party. Shaw and I knew one of them, — a man named 
Turner, whom we had seen at Westport. He and his com- 
panion belonged to an emigrant party encamped a few miles 
in advance, and had returned to look for some stray oxen, 
leaving their rifles, with characteristic rashness or ignorance, 

10 behind them. Their neglect had nearly cost them dear ; for, 
just before we came up, half-a-dozen Indians approached, 
and, seeing them apparently defenceless, one of the rascals 
seized the bridle of Turner's horse and ordered him to dis- 
mount. Turner was wholly unarmed ; but the other jerked 

15 a pistol out of his pocket, at which the Pawnee recoiled; 
and just then some of our men appearing in the distance, the 
whole party whipped their rugged little horses and made off. 
In no way daunted, Turner foolishly persisted in going for- 
ward. 

20 Long after leaving him, and late that afternoon, in the 
midst of a gloomy ajid barren prairie, we came suddenly 
upon the great trail of the Pawnees, leading from their vil- 
lages on the Platte to their war and hunting grounds to the 
southward. Here every summer passes the motley con- 

25 course : thousands of savages, men, women, and children, 
horses and mules, laden with their weapons and implements, 
and an innumerable multitude of unruly wolfish dogs, who 
have not acquired the civilized accomplishment of barking, 
but howl like their wild cousins of the prairie. 

30 The permanent winter villages of the Pawnees stand on 
the lower Platte, but throughout the summer the greater 
part of the inhabitants are wandering over the plains, — a 
treacherous, cowardly banditti, who, by a thousand acts of 
pillage and murder, have deserved chastisement at the hands 
of government. Last year a Dahcotah warrior performed a 



THE plattp: and the desert 55 

notable exploit at one of these villages. He approached it 
alone, in the middle of a dark night, and clambering up the 
outside of one of the lodges, which are in the form of a half- 
sphere, looked in at the round hole made at the top for the 
escape of smoke. The dusky light from the embers showed 5 
him the forms of the sleeping inmates; and dropping 
lightly through the opening, he unsheathed his knife, and, 
stirring the fire, coolly selected his victims. One by one, he 
stabbed and scalped them; when a child suddenly awoke 
and screamed. He rushed from the lodge, yelled a Sioux lo 
war-cry, shouted his name in triumph and defiance, and 
darted out upon the dark prairie, leaving the whole village 
behind him in a tumult, with the howling and baying of 
dogs, the screams of women, and the yells of the enraged 
warriors. 15 

Our friend Kearsley, as we learned on rejoining him, 
signalized himself by a less bloody achievement. He and his 
men were good woodsmen, well skilled in the use of the 
rifle, but found themselves wholly out of their element on 
the prairie. None of them had ever seen a buffalo ; and they 20 
had very vague conceptions of his nature and appearance. 
On the day after they reached the Platte, looking towards a 
distant swell, they beheld a multitude of little black specks 
in motion upon its surface. 

" Take your rifles, boys," said Kearsley, ''and we'll have 25 
fresh meat for supper." This inducement was quite suffi- 
cient. The ten men left their wagons, and set out in hot 
haste, some on horseback and some on foot, in pursuit of the 
supposed buffalo. Meanwhile a high, grassy ridge shut the 
game from view ; but mounting it after half an hour's run- 30 
ning and riding, they found themselves suddenly confronted 
by about thirty mounted Pawnees. Amazement and con- 
sternation were mutual. Having nothing but their bows and 
arrows, the Indians thought their hour was come, and the 
fate that they were conscious of richly deserving about to 



56 THE OREGON TRAIL 

overtake them. So they began, one and all, to shout forth 
the most cordial salutations, running up with extreme ear- 
nestness to shake hands with the Missourians, who were 
as much rejoiced as they were to escape the expected 

5 conflict. 

A low, undulating line of sand-hills bounded the horizon 
before us. That day we rode ten hours, and it was dusk be- 
fore we entered the hollows and gorges of these gloomy 
little hills.' At length we gained the summit, and the long- 

10 expected valley of the Platte lay before us. We all drew 
rein, and sat joyfully looking down upon the prospect. It 
was right welcome ; strange, too, and striking to the imagi- 
nation, and yet it had not one picturesque or beautiful 
feature ; nor had it any of the features of grandeur, other 

15 than its vast extent, its solitude, and its wildness. For 
league after league, a plain as level as a lake was outspread 
beneath us ; here and there the Platte, divided into a dozen 
thread-like sluices, was traversing it, and an occasional clump 
of wood, rising in the midst like a shadowy island, relieved 

20 the monotony of the waste. No living thing was moving 
throughout the vast landscape, except the lizards that darted 
over the sand and through the rank grass and prickly pears 
at our feet. 

We had passed the more tedious part of the journey ; but 

25 four hundred miles still intervened between us and Fort 
Laramie ; and to reach that point cost us the travel of three 
more weeks. During the whole of this time we were passing 
up the middle of a long, narrow, sandy plain, reaching like 
an outstretched belt nearly to the Rocky Mountains. Two 

30 lines of sand-hills, broken often into the wildest and most 
fantastic forms, flanked the valley at the distance of a mile 
or two on the right and left ; while beyond them lay a 
barren, trackless waste, extending for hundreds of miles to 
the Arkansas on the one side, and the Missouri on the other. 
Before and behind us, the level monotony of the plain was 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT 57 

unbroken as far as the eye could reach. Sometimes it glared 
in the sun, an expanse of hot, bare sand, sometimes it was 
veiled by long coarse grass. Skulls and whitening bones of 
buffalo were scattered everywhere ; the ground was tracked 
by myriads of them, and often covered with the circular in- 5 
dentations where the bulls had wallowed in the hot weather. 
From every gorge and ravine, opening from the hills, de- 
scended deep, well-worn paths, where the buffalo issue twice 
a day in regular procession to drink in the Platte. The river 
itself runs through the midst, a thin sheet of rapid, turbid 10 
water, half a mile wide, and scarcely two feet deep. Its low 
banks, for the most part without a bush or a tree, are of 
loose sand, with which the stream is so charged that it grates 
on the teeth in drinking. The naked landscape is, of itself, 
dreary and monotonous enough ; and yet the wild beasts and 15 
wild men that frequent the valley of the Platte make it a 
scene of interest and excitement to the traveller. Of those 
who have journeyed there, scarcely one, perhaps, fails to 
look back with fond regret to his horse and his rifle. 

Early in the morning after we reached the Platte, a long 20 
procession of squalid savages approached our camp. Each 
was on foot, leading his horse by a rope of bull-hide. His 
attire consisted merely of a scanty cincture, and an old 
buffalo robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which hung 
over his shoulders. His head was close shaven, except a 25 
ridge of hair reaching over the crown from the middle of the 
forehead, very much like the long bristles on the back of a 
hyena, and he carried his bow and arrows in his hand, while 
his meagre little horse was laden with dried buffalo meat, 
the produce of his hunting. Such were the first specimens 30 
that we met — and very indifferent ones they were — of the 
genuine savages of the prairie. 

They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encountered 
the day before, and belonged to a large hunting-party, known 
to be ranging the prairie in the vicinity. They strode rapidly 



58 THE OREGON TRAIL 

by, within a furlong of our tents, not pausing or looking 
towards us, after the manner of Indians when meditating 
mischief, or conscious of ill desert. I went out to meet them, 
and had an amicable conference with the chief, presenting 
5 him with half a pound of tobacco, at which unmerited bounty 
he expressed much gratification. These fellows, or some of 
their companions, had committed a dastardly outrage upon 
an emigrant party in advance of us. Two men, at a distance 
from the rest, were seized by them, but, lashing their horses, 

10 they broke away and fled. At this the Pawnees raised the 
yell and shot at them, transfixing the hindmost through the 
back with several arrows, while his companion galloped 
away and brought in the news to his party. The panic- 
stricken emigrants remained for several days in camp, not 

15 daring even to send out in .quest of the dead body. 

Our New-England climate is mild and equable compared 
with that of the Platte. This very morning, for instance, 
was close and sultry, the sun rising with a faint oppressive 
heat ; when suddenly darkness gathered in the west, and a 

20 furious blast of sleet and hail drove full in our faces, icy cold, 
and urged with such demoniac vehemence that it felt like a 
storm of needles. It was curious to see the horses ; they 
faced about in extreme displeasure, holding their tails like 
whipped dogs, and shivering as the angry gusts, howling 

25 louder than a concert of wolves, swept over us. Wright's 
long train of mules came sweeping round before the storm, 
like a flight of snow-birds driven by a winter tempest. Thus 
we all remained stationary for some minutes, crouching close 
to our horses' necks, much too surly to speak, though once 

30 the captain looked up from between the collars of his coat, 
his face blood-red, and the muscles of his mouth contracted 
by the cold into a most ludicrous grin of agony. He grum- 
bled something that sounded like a curse, directed, as we be- 
lieved, against the unhappy hour when he had first thought 
of leaving home. The thing was too good to last long ; and 



THE PLATTE AXD THE DESERT 59 

the instant the puffs of wind subsided we pitched our tents, 
and remained in camp for the rest of a gloomy and lowering 
day. The emigrants also encamped near at hand. We being- 
first on the ground, had appropriated all the wood within 
reach ; so that our fire alone blazed cheerily. Around it soon 5 
gathered a group of uncouth figures, shivering in the drizzling 
rain. Conspicuous among them were two or three of the 
half-savage men who spend their reckless lives in trapping 
among the Rocky Mountains, or in trading for the Fur 
Company in the Indian villages. They were all of Canadian 10 
extraction ; their hard, weather-beaten faces and bushy mous- 
taches looked out froin beneath the hoods of their white 
capotes with a bad and brutish expression, as if their owners 
might be the willing agents of any villany. And such in 
fact is the character of many of these men. 15 

On the day following we overtook Kearsley's wagons, 
and thenceforward, for a week or two, we were fellow-travel- 
lers. One good effect, at least, resulted from the alliance ; 
it materially diminished the fatigues of standing guard ; for 
the party being now more numerous, there were longer in- 20 
tervals between each man's turns of duty. 



CHAPTER VII 
THE BUFFALO 

Four days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo ! Last year's 
signs of them were provokingly abundant ; and wood being 
extremely scarce, we found an admirable substitute in the 
hois de vache, which burns like peat, producing no unpleas- 
5 ant effects. The wagons one morning had left the camp ; 
Shaw and I were already on horseback, but Henry Chatillon 
still sat cross-legged by the dead embers of the fire, playing 
pensively with the lock of his rifle, while his sturdy Wyan- 
dot pony stood quietly behind him, looking over his head. 

10 At last he got up, patted the neck of the pony (which, from 
an exaggerated appreciation of his merits, he had christened 
" Five Hundred Dollar "), and then mounted, with a mel- 
ancholy air. 

" What is it, Henry ? " 

15 " Ah, I feel lonesome ; I never been here before but I see 
away yonder over the buttes, and down there on the prairie, 
black — all black with buffalo." 

In the afternoon he and I left the party in search of an 
antelope, until, at the distance of a mile or two on the right, 

20 the tall white wagons and the little black specks of horse- 
men were just visible, so slowly advancing that they seemed 
motionless ; and far on the left rose the broken line of 
scorched, desolate sand-hills. The vast plain waved with 
tall rank grass, that swept our horses' bellies ; it swayed to 

25 and fro in billows with the light breeze, and far and near 
antelope and wolves were moving through it, the hairy backs 
of the latter alternately appearing and disappearing as they 
bounded awkwardly along; while the antelope, with the 

60 



THE BUFFALO 61 

simple curiosity peculiar to them, would often approach us 
closely, their little horns and white throats just visible above 
the grass-tops, as they gazed eagerly at us with their round 
black eyes. 

I dismounted, and amused myself with firing at the 5 
wolves. Henry attentively scrutinized the surrounding land- 
scape ; at length he gave a shout, and called on me to mount 
again, pointing in the direction of the sand-hills. A mile 
and a half from us two black specks slowly traversed the 
bare glaring face of one of them, and disappeared behind lo 
the summit. " Let us go ! " cried Henry, belaboring the 
sides of '' Five Hundred Dollar " ; and I following in his 
wake, we galloped rapidly through the rank grass toward 
the base of the hills. 

From one of their openings descended a deep ravine, 15 
widening as it issued on the prairie. We entered it, and 
galloping up, in a moment were surrounded by the bleak 
sand-hills. Half of their steep sides were bare ; the rest 
were scantily clothed with clumps of grass, and various 
uncouth plants, conspicuous among which appeared the 20 
reptile-like prickly-pear. They were gashed with numberless 
ravines ; and as the sky had suddenly darkened, and a cold 
gusty wind arisen, the strange shrubs and the dreary hills 
looked doubly wild and desolate. But Henry's face was all 
eagerness. He tore off a little hair from the piece of buffalo- 2r^ 
robe under his saddle, and threw it up, to show the course 
of the wind. It blew directly before us. The game were 
therefore to leeward, and it was necessary to make our best 
speed to get round them. 

We scrambled from this ravine, and, galloping away 30 
through the hollows, soon found another, winding like a 
snake among the hills, and so deep that it completely con- 
cealed us. We rode up the bottom of it, glancing through the 
bushes at its edge, till Henry abruptly jerked his rein, and 
slid out of his saddle. Full a quarter of a mile distant, on 



62 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the outline of the farthest hill, a long procession of buffalo 
were walking, in Indian file, with the utmost gravity and 
deliberation; then more appeared, clambering from a hol- 
low not far off, and ascending, one behind the other, the 

5 grassy slope of another hill ; then a shaggy head and a pair 
of short broken horns issued out of a ravine close at hand, 
and with a slow, stately step, one by one, the enormous 
brutes came into view, taking their way across the valley, 
wholly unconscious of an enemy. In a moment Henry was 

10 worming his way, lying flat on the ground, through grass 
and prickly-pears, towards his unsuspecting victims. He 
had with him both my rifle and his own. He was soon out of 
sight, and still the buffalo kept issuing into the valley. For 
a long time all was silent ; I sat holding his horse, and won- 

15 dering what he was about, when suddenly, in rapid succes- 
sion, came the sharp reports of the two rifles, and the whole 
line of buffalo, quickening their pace into a clumsy trot, 
gradually disappeared over the ridge of the hill. Henry 
rose to his feet, and stood looking after them. 

20 " You have missed them," said I. 

" Yes," said Henry ; '' let us go." He descended into the 
ravine, loaded the rifles, and mounted his horse. 

We rode up the hill after the buffalo. The herd was out 
of sight when we reached the top, but lying on the grass, not 

25 far off, was one quite lifeless, and another violently strug- 
gling in the death-agony. 

" You see I miss him ! " remarked Henry. He had fired 
from a distance of more than a hundred and fifty yards, and 
both balls had passed through the lungs, the true mark in 

30 shooting buffalo. 

The darkness increased, and a driving storm came on. 
Tying our horses to the horns of the victims, Henry began 
the bloody work of dissection, slashing away with the science 
of a connoisseur, while I vainly tried to imitate him. Old 
Hendrick recoiled with horror and indignation when I 



THE BUFFALO 63 

endeavored to tie the meat to the strings of raw hide, always 
carried for this purpose, dangling at the back of the saddle. 
After some difficulty we overcame his scruples ; and, heavily 
burdened with the more eligible portions of the buffalo, we 
set out on our return. Scarcely had we emerged from the 5 
labyrinth of gorges and ravines, and issued upon the open 
prairie, when the prickling sleet came driving, gust upon 
gust, directly in our faces. It was strangely dark, though 
wanting still an hour of sunset. The freezing storm soon 
penetrated to the skin, but the uneasy trot of our heav}'- lo 
gaited horses kept us warm enough, as we forced them un- 
willingly in the teeth of the sleet and rain, by the powerful 
suasion of our Indian whips. The prairie in this place was 
hard and level. A flourishing colony of prairie-dogs had 
burrowed into it in every direction, and the little mounds of 15 
fresh earth around their holes were about as numerous as 
the hills in a cornfield ; but not a yelp was to be heard ; not 
the nose of a single citizen was visible ; all had retired to 
the depths of their burrows, and we envied them their dry 
and comfortable habitations. An hour's hard riding showed 20 
us our tent dimly looming through the storm, one side puffed 
out by the force of the wind, and the other collapsed in pro- 
portion, while the disconsolate horses stood shivering close 
around, and the wind kept up a dismal whistling in the 
boughs of three old half-dead trees above. Shaw, like a pa- 25 
triarch, sat on his saddle in the entrance, with a pipe in his 
mouth and his arms folded, contemplating, with cool satis- 
faction, the x)iles of meat that we flung on the ground before 
him. A dark and dreary night succeeded ; but the sun rose, 
with a heat so sultry and languid that the captain excused 30 
himself on that account from waylaying an old buffalo bull, 
who with stupid gravity was walking over the prairie to 
drink at the river. So much for the climate of the Platte. 
But it was not the weather alone that had produced 
this sudden abatement of the sportsman-like zeal which the 



64 THE OREGON TRAIL 

captain had always professed. He had been out on the after- 
noon before, together with several members of his party ; 
but their hunting was attended with no other result than the 
loss of one of their best horses, severely injured by Sorel, in 

5 vainly chasing a wounded bull. The captain, whose ideas of 
hard riding were all derived from transatlantic sources, ex- 
pressed the utmost amazement at the feats of Sorel, who 
went leaping ravines, and dashing at full speed up and down 
the sides of precipitous hills, lashing his horse with the 

10 recklessness of a Rocky Mountain rider. Unfortunately for 

the poor animal, he was the property of R , against whom 

Sorel entertained an unbounded aversion. The captain him- 
self, it seemed, had also attempted to '' run " a buffalo, but 
though a good and practised horseman, he had soon given 

15 over the attempt, being astonished and utterly disgusted at 
the nature of the ground he was required to ride over. 

" Here 's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort Lar- 
amie," shouted Henry, as we returned from a reconnoitring 
tour on the next morning. We had for some days expected 

20 this encounter. Papin was the bourgeois, or '' boss," of Fort 
Laramie. He had come down the river with the buffalo-robes 
and the beaver, the produce of the last winter's trading. I 
had among our baggage a letter which I wished to commit 
to their hands ; so requesting Henry to detain the boats if 

25 he could until my return, I set out after the wagons. They 
were about four miles in advance. In half an hour I over- 
took them, got the letter, trotted back upon the trail, and 
looking carefully, as I rode, saw a patch of broken storm- 
blasted trees, and, moving near them, some little black specks 

30 like men and horses. Arriving at the place, I found a 
strange assembly. The boats, eleven in number, deep-laden 
with the skins, hugged close to the shore, to escape being 
borne down by the swift current. The rowers, swarthy ig- 
noble Mexicans, turned their brutish faces upwards to look, 
as I reached the bank. Papin sat in the middle of one of the 



THE BUFFALO 65 

boats, upon the canvas covering that protected the cargo. 
He was a stout, robust fellow, with a little gray eye, that 
had a peculiarly sly twinkle. " Frederic," also, stretched 
his tall raw-boned proportions close by the hourgeois, and 
'' mountain men " completed the group : some lounging in 5 
the boats, some strolling on shore ; some attired in gayly- 
painted buffalo robes, like Indian dandies ; some with hair 
saturated with red paint, and plastered with glue to their 
temples ; and one bedaubed with vermilion upon the fore- 
head and each cheek. They were a mongrel race ; yet the 10 
French blood seemed to predominate : in a few, indeed, 
might be seen the black snaky eye of the Indian half-breed, 
and, one and all, they seemed to aim at assimilating them- 
selves to their red associates. 

I shook hands with the bourgeois, and delivered the letter ; 15 
then the boats swung round into the stream and floated 
away. They had reason for haste, for already the voyage 
from Fort Laramie had occupied a full month, and the river 
was growing daily more shallow. Fifty times a day the 
boats had been aground; indeed, those who navigate the 20 
Platte invariably spend half their time upon sand-bars. Two 
of these boats, the property of private traders, afterwards 
separating from the rest, got hopelessly involved in the 
shallows, not very far from the Pawnee villages, and were 
soon surrounded by a swarm of the inhabitants. They carried 25 
off everything that they thought valuable, including most of 
the robes ; and amused themselves by tying up the men left 
on guard, and soundly whipping them with sticks. 

We encamped that night upon the bank of the river. 
Among the emigrants was an overgrown boy, some eighteen 30 
years old, with a head as round and about as large as a 
pumpkin, and fever-and-ague fits had dyed his face of a 
corresponding color. He wore an old white hat, tied under 
his chin with a handkerchief ; his body was short and stout, 
but his legs were of disproportioned and appalling length. 



()6 THE OREGON TRAIL 

I observed him at sunset, breasting the hill with gigantic 
strides, and standing against the sky on the summit, like a 
colossal pair of tongs. In a moment after we heard him 
screaming frantically behind the ridge, and nothing doubt- 

5 ing that he was in the clutches of Indians or grizzly bears, 
some of the party caught up their rifles and ran to the res- 
cue. His outcries, however, were but an ebullition of joyous 
excitement ; he had chased two wolf pups to their burrow, 
and was on his knees, grubbing away like a dog at the mouth 

10 of the hole, to get at them. 

Before morning he caused more serious disquiet in the 
camp. It was his turn to hold the middle-guard ; but no 
sooner was he called up than he coolly arranged a pair of 
saddle-bags under a wagon, laid his head upon them, closed 

15 his eyes, opened his mouth, and fell asleep. The guard on 
our side of the camp, thinking it no part of his duty to look 
after the cattle of the emigrants, contented himself with 
watching our own horses and mules ; the wolves, he said, 
were unusually noisy ; but still no mischief was anticipated 

20 until the sun rose, when not a hoof or horn was in sight. 
The cattle were gone. While Tom was quietly slumbering, 
the wolves had driven them away. 

Then we reaped the fruits of R 's precious plan of 

travelling in company with emigrants. To leave them in 

25 their distress was not to be thought of, and we felt bound 
to wait until the cattle could be searched for, and, if possible, 
recovered. But the reader may be curious to know what 
punishment awaited the faithless Tom. By the wholesome 
law of the prairie, he who falls asleep on guard is condemned 

30 to walk all day, leading his horse by the bridle ; and we 
found much fault with our companions for not enforcing 
such a sentence on the offender. Nevertheless, had he been 
of our own party, I have no doubt that he would in like 
manner have escaped scot-free. But the emigrants went 
farther than mere forbearance : they decreed that since Tom 



THE BUFFALO 67 

could n't stand guard without falling asleep, lie should n't 
stand guard at all, and henceforward his slumbers were un- 
broken. Establishing such a premium on drowsiness could 
have no very beneficial effect upon the vigilance of our sen- 
tinels ; for it is far from agreeable, after riding from sunrise 5 
to sunset, to feel your slumbers interrupted by the butt of 
a rifle nudging your side, and a sleepy voice growling in 
your ear that you must get up, to shiver and freeze for three 
weary hours at midnight. 

" Buffalo ! buffalo ! " It was but a grim old bull, roaming lo 
the prairie by himself in misanthropic seclusion ; but there 
might be more behind the hills. Dreading the monotony and 
languor of the camp, Shaw and I saddled our horses, buckled 
our holsters in their places, and set out with Henry Chatillon 
in search of the game. Henry, not intending to take part in 15 
the chase, but merely conducting us, carried his rifle with 
him, while we left ours behind as encumbrances. We rode 
for some five or six miles, and saw no living thing but 
wolves, snakes, and prairie-dogs. 

" This won't do at all," said Shaw. 20 

"What won't do?" 

" There 's no wood about here to make a litter for the 
wounded man : I have an idea that one of us will need 
something of the sort before the day is over." 

There was some foundation for such an idea, for the 25 
ground was none of the best for a race, and grew worse con- 
tinually as we proceeded ; indeed, it soon became desperately 
bad, consisting of abrupt hills and deep hollows, cut by fre- 
quent ravines not easy to pass. At length, a mile in advance, 
we saw a band of bulls. Some were scattered grazing over 30 
a green declivity, while the rest were crowded together in 
the wide hollow below. Making a circuit, to keep out of 
sight, we rode towards them, until we ascended a hill, 
within a furlong of them, beyond which nothing inter- 
vened that could possibly screen us from their view. We 



68 THE OREGON TRAIL 

dismounted behind the ridge, just out of sight, drew our 
saddle-girths, examined our pistols, and mounting again, 
rode over the hill, and descended at a canter towards them, 
bending close to our horses' necks. Instantly they took the 

5 alarm : those on the hill descended, those below gathered 
into a mass, and the whole got into motion, shouldering each 
other along at a clumsy gallop. We followed, spurring our 
horses to full speed; and as the herd rushed, crowding 
and trampling in terror through an opening in the hills, we 

10 were close at their heels, half suffocated by the clouds of 
dust. But as we drew near, their alarm and speed increased ; 
our horses, being new to the work, showed signs of the ut- 
most fear, bounding violently aside as we approached, and 
refusing to enter among the herd. The buffalo now broke 

15 into several small bodies, scampering over the hills in dif- 
ferent directions, and I lost sight of Shaw ; neither of us 
knew where the other had gone. Old Pontiac ran like a 
frantic elephant up hill and down hill, his ponderous hoofs 
striking the prairie like sledge-hammers. He showed a 

20 curious mixture of eagerness and terror, straining to over- 
take the panic-stricken herd, but constantly recoiling in dis- 
may as we drew near. The fugitives, indeed, offered no very 
attractive spectacle, with their shaggy manes and the tat- 
tered remnants of their last winter's hair covering their 

25 backs in irregular shreds and patches, and flying off in the 
wind as they ran. At length I urged my horse close behind 
a bull, and after trying in vain, by blows and spurring, to 
bring him alongside, I fired from this disadvantageous posi- 
tion. At the report Pontiac swerved so much that I was 

30 again thrown a little behind the game. The bullet, entering 
too much in the rear, failed to disable the bull ; for a buffalo 
requires to be shot at particular points, or he will certainly 
escape. The herd ran up a hill, and I followed in pursuit. 
As Pontiac rushed headlong down on the other side, I saw 
Shaw and Henry descending the hollow on the right, at a 



THE BUFFALO 69 

leisurely gallop; and in front, the buffalo were just disap- 
pearing behind the crest of the next hill, their short tails 
erect, and their hoofs twinkling through a cloud of dust. 

At that moment I heard Shaw and Henry shouting to me ; 
but the muscles of a stronger arm than mine could not have 5 
checked at once the furious course of Pontiac, whose mouth 
was as insensible as leather. Added to this, I rode him that 
morning with a snaffle, having the day before, for the bene- 
fit of my other horse, unbuckled from my bridle the curb 
which I commonly used. A stronger and hardier brute never lo 
trod the prairie ; but the novel sight of the buffalo filled him 
with terror, and when at full speed he was almost incontrol- 
lable. Gaining the top of the ridge, I saw nothing of the 
buffalo ; they had all vanished amid the intricacies of the 
hills and hollows. Reloading my pistols, in the best way I 15 
could, I galloped on until I saw them again scuttling along 
at the base of the hill, their panic somewhat abated. Down 
went old Pontiac among them, scattering them to the right 
and left; and then we had another long chase. About a 
dozen bulls were before us, scouring over the hills, rushing 20 
down the declivities with tremendous weight and impetuos- 
ity, and then laboring with a weary gallop upward. Still 
Pontiac, in spite of spurring and beating, would not close 
with them. One bull at length fell a little behind the rest, 
and by dint of much effort, I urged my horse within six or 25 
eight yards of his side. His back was darkened with sweat : 
he was panting heavily, while his tongue lolled out a foot 
from his jaws. Gradually I came up abreast of him, urging 
Pontiac with leg and rein nearer to his side, when suddenly 
he did what buffalo in such circumstances will always do : 30 
he slackened his gallop, and turning towards us, with an 
aspect of mingled rage and distress, lowered his huge, shaggy 
head for a charge. Pontiac, with a snort, leaped aside in 
terror, nearly throwing me to the ground, as I was wholly 
unprepared for such an evolution. I raised my pistol in a 



70 THE OREGON TRAIL 

passion to strike him on the head, but thinking better of it, 
fired the bullet after the bull, who had resumed his flight ; 
then drew rein, and determined to rejoin my companions. It 
was high time. The breath blew hard from Pontiac's nos- 

5 trils, and the sweat rolled in big drops down his sides ; I 
myself felt as if drenched in warm water. Pledging myself 
to take my revenge at a future opportunity, I looked about 
for some indications to show me where I was, and what 
course I ought to pursue ; I might as well have looked for 

10 landmarks in the midst of the ocean. How many miles I 
had run, or in what direction, I. had no idea; and around 
me the prairie was rolling in steep swells and pitches, with- 
out a single distinctive feature to guide me. I had a little 
compass hung at my neck ; and, ignorant that the Platte at 

15 this point diverged consideraVjly from its easterly course, I 
thought that by keeping to the northward I should certainly 
reach it. So I turned and rode about two hours in that 
direction. The prairie changed as I advanced, softening 
away into easier undulations, but nothing like the Platte ap- 

20 peared, nor any sign of a human being : the same wild end- 
less expanse lay around me still ; and to all appearance I 
was as far from my object as ever. I began now to think 
myself in danger of being lost, and, reining in my horse, 
summoned the scanty share of woodcraft that I possessed 

25 (if that term is applicable upon the prairie) to extricate me. 
It occurred to me that the buffalo might prove my best 
guides. I soon found one of the paths made by them in their 
passage to the river : it ran nearly at right angles to my 
course ; but turning my horse's head in the direction it 

30 indicated, his freer gait and erected ears assured me that I 
was right. 

But in the mean time my ride had been by no means a 
solitary one. The face of the country was dotted far and 
wide with countless hundreds of buffalo. They trooped 
along in files and columns, bulls, cows, and calves, on the 



THE BUFFALO 71 

green faces of the declivities in front. They scrambled away 
over the hills to the right and left; and far off, the pale 
blue swells in the extreme distance were dotted with innum- 
erable specks. Sometimes I surprised shaggy old bulls graz- 
ing alone, or sleeping behind the ridges I ascended. They 5 
would leap up at my approach, stare stupidly at me through 
their tangled manes, and then gallop heavily away. The 
antelope were very numerous ; and as they are always bold 
when in the neighborhood of buffalo, they would approach 
to look at me, gaze intently with their great round eyes, then lo 
suddenly leap aside, and ^tratch lightly away over the 
prairie, as swiftly as a race-horse. Squalid, ruffian-like 
wolves sneaked through the hollows and sandy ravines. Sev- 
eral times I passed through villages of prairie-dogs, who sat, 
each at the mouth of his burrow, holding his paws before 15 
him in a supplicating attitude, and yelping away most ve- 
hemently, whisking his little tail with every squeaking cry 
he uttered. Prairie-dogs are not fastidious in their choice of 
companions ; various long checkered snakes were sunning 
themselves in the midst of the village, and demure little gray 20 
owls, with a large white ring around each eye, were perched 
side by side with the rightful inhabitants. The prairie 
teemed with life. Again and again I looked toward the 
crowded hillsides, and was sure I saw horsemen ; and riding 
near, with a mixture of hope and dread, for Indians were 25 
abroad, I found them transformed into a group of buffalo. 
There was nothing in human shape amid all this vast con- 
gregation of brute forms. 

When I turned down the buffalo path, the prairie seemed 
changed ; only a wolf or two glided by at intervals, like 30 
conscious felons, never looking to the right or left. Being 
now free from anxiety, I was at leisure to observe minutely 
the objects around me ; and here, for the first time, I noticed 
insects wholly different from any of the varieties found 
farther to the eastward. Gaudy butterflies fluttered about 



72 THE orp:(U)n trail 

my horse's head ; strangely formed beetles, glittering with 
metallic lustre, were crawling upon plants that I had never 
seen before ; multitudes of lizards, too, were darting like 
lightning over the sand. 

5 I had run to a great distance from the river. It cost me 
a long ride on the buffalo path, before I saw, from the ridge 
of a sand-hill, the pale surface of the Platte glistening in the 
midst of its desert valley, and the faint outline of the hills 
beyond waving along the sky. From where I stood, not a 

10 tree nor a bush nor a living thing was visible throughout the 
whole extent of the sun-scorched landscape. In half an hour 
I came upon the trail, not far from the river ; and seeing 
that the party had not yet passed, I turned eastward to meet 
them, old Pontiac's long swinging trot again assuring me 

15 that I was right in doing so. Having been slightly ill on 
leaving camp in the morning, six or seven hours of rough 
riding had fatigued me extremely. I soon stopped, therefore, 
flung my saddle on the ground, and with my head resting 
on it, and my horse's trail-rope tied loosely to my arm, lay 

20 waiting the arrival of the party, speculating meanwhile on 
the extent of the injuries Pontiac had received. At length 
the white wagon coverings rose from the verge of the plain. 
By a singular coincidence, almost at the same moment two 
horsemen appeared coming down from the hills. They were 

25 Shaw and Henry, who had searched for me awhile in the 
morning, but well knowing the futility of the attempt in 
such a broken country, had placed themselves on the top of 
the highest hill they could find, and picketing their horses 
near them, as a signal to me, had lain down and fallen asleep. 

30 The stray cattle had been recovered, as the emigrants told 
us, about noon. Before sunset, we pushed forward eight 
miles farther. 

June 7, 1846. — Four men are missing : R , Sorel, and two 

emigrants. They set out this morning after buffalo, and have not 
yet made their appearance ; whetlier killed or lost, we cannot tell. 



THE BUFFALO 73 

I find the above in my note-book, and well remember the 
council held on the occasion. Our fire was the scene of it ; 
for the superiority of Henry Chatillon's experience and skill 
made him the resort of the whole camp upon every question 
of difficulty. He was moulding bullets at the fire, when the 5 
captain drew near, with a perturbed and careworn expres- 
sion of countenance, faithfully reflected on the heavy fea- 
tures of Jack, who followed close behind. Then the emigrants 
came straggling from their wagons towards the common 
centre. Various suggestions were made, to account for the 10 
absence of the four men, and one or two of the emigrants 
declared that, when out after the cattle, they had seen 
Indians dogging them, and crawling like wolves along the 
ridges of the hills. At this the captain slowly shook his 
head with double gravity, and solemnly remarked, — 15 

'' It 's a serious thing to be travelling through this cursed 
wilderness ; " an opinion in which Jack immediately ex- 
pressed a thorough coincidence. Henry would not commit 
himself by declaring any positive opinion. 

" Maybe he only followed the buffalo too far ; maybe 20 
Indian kill him ; maybe he got lost ; I cannot tell." 

With this the auditors were obliged to rest content ; the 
emigrants, not in the least alarmed, though curious to know 
what had become of their comrades, walked back to their 
wagons, and the captain betook himself pensively to his tent. 25 
Shaw and I follow^ed his example. 



CHAPTER VIII 
TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 

On the eighth of June, at eleven o'clock, we reached the 
South Fork of the Platte, at the usual fording-place. For 
league upon league the desert uniformity of the prospect 
was almost unbroken ; the hills were dotted with little tufts 

5 of shrivelled grass, but betwixt these the white sand was 
glaring in the sun ; and the channel of the river, almost on 
a level with the plain, was but one great sand-bed, about 
half a mile wide. It was covered with water, but so scantily 
that the bottom was scarcely hidden ; for, wide as it is, the 

10 average depth of the Platte does not at this point exceed a 
foot and a half. Stopping near its bank, we gathered hois de 
vache, and made a meal of buffalo-meat. Far off, on the 
other side, was a green meadow, where we could see the 
white tents and wagons of an emigrant camp ; and just op- 

15 posite to us we could discern a group of men and animals at 
the water's edge. Four or five horsemen soon entered the 
river, and in ten minutes had waded across and clambered 
up the loose sand-bank. They were ill-looking fellows, thin 
and swarthy, with careworn anxious faces, and lips rigidly 

20 compressed. They had good cause for anxiety ; it was three 
days since they first encamped here, and on the night of 
their arrival they had lost a hundred and twenty-three of 
their best cattle, driven off by the wolves, through the neg- 
lect of the man on guard. This discouraging and alarming 

25 calamity was not the first that had overtaken them. Since 
leaving the settlements they had met with nothing but mis- 
fortune. Some of their party had died ; one man had been 
killed by the Pawnees ; and about a week before they had 

74 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 75 

been plundered by the Dahcotahs of all their best horses, the 
wretched animals on which our visitors were mounted being 
the only ones that were left. They had encamped, they told 
us, near sunset, by the side of the Platte, and their oxen 
were scattered over the meadow, while the horses were feed- 5 
ing a little farther off. Suddenly the ridges of the hills were 
alive with a swarm of mounted Indians, at least six hundred 
in number, who came pouring with a yell down towards the 
camp, rushing up within a few rods, to the great terror of 
the emigrants ; when, suddenly wheeling, they swept around 10 
the band of horses, and in five minutes disappeared with 
their prey through the openings of the hills. 

As these emigrants were telling their story, we saw four 

other men approaching. They proved to be R and his 

companions, who had encountered no mischance of any kind, 15 
but had only wandered too far in pursuit of the game. They 
said they had seen no Indians, but only '' millions of buf- 
falo " ; and both R and Sorel had meat dangling behind 

their saddles. 

The emigrants recrossed the river, and we prepared to 20 
follow. First the heavy ox-wagons plunged down the bank, 
and dragged slowly over the sand-beds ; sometimes the hoofs 
of the oxen were scarcely wet by the thin sheet of water ; 
and the next moment the river would be boiling against 
their sides, and eddying around the wheels. Inch by inch 25 
they receded from the shore, dwindling every moment, until 
at length they seemed to be floating far out in the middle 
of the river. A more critical experiment awaited us ; for 
our little mule-cart was ill fitted for the passage of so swift 
a stream. We watched it with anxiety, till it seemed a 30 
motionless white speck in the midst of the waters ; and it was 
motionless, for it had stuck fast in a quicksand. The mules 
were losing their footing, the wheels were sinking deeper 
and deeper, and the water began to rise through the bottom 
and drench the goods within. All of us who had remained 



76 THE OREGON TRAIL 

on the hither bank galloped to the rescne ; the men jumped 
into the water, adding their strength to that of the ntules, 
until by much effort the cart was extricated, and conveyed 
in safety across. 
5 As we gained the other bank, a rough group of men sur- 
rounded us. They were not robust, nor large of frame, yet 
they had an aspect of hardy endurance. Finding at home 
no scope for their energies, they had betaken themselves 
to the prairie : and in them seemed to be revived, with re- 
10 doubled force, that fierce spirit which impelled their ances- 
tors, scarcely more lawless than themselves, from the German 
forests, to inundate Europe, and overwhelm the Roman em- 
pire. A fortnight afterwards this unfortunate party passed 
Fort Laramie, while we were there. Not one of their miss- 
is ing oxen had been recovered, though they had remained 
encamped a week in search of them ; and they had been 
compelled to abandon a great part of their baggage and 
provisions, and yoke cows and heifers to their wagons to 
carry them forward upon their journey, the most toilsome 
20 and hazardous part of which lay still before them. 

It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may sometimes 
see the shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed tables, well 
waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of carved oak. These, 
some of them no doubt the relics of ancestral prosperity in 
25 the colonial time, must have encountered strange vicissitudes. 
Brought, perhaps, originally from England ; then, with the 
declining fortunes of their owners, borne across the Alle- 
ghanies to the wilderness of Ohio or Kentucky ; then to 
Illinois or Missouri; and now at last fondly stowed away 
30 in the family wagon for the interminable journey to Oregon. 
But the stern privations of the way are little anticipated. 
The cherished relic is soon flung out to scorch and crack 
upon the hot prairie. 

We resumed our journey ; but we had gone scarcely a 
mile when R called out from the rear, — 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 77 

" We '11 'camp here." 

" Why do you want to 'camp ? Look at the sun. It is 
not three o'clock yet." 

" We '11 'camp here ! " 

This was the only reply vouchsafed. Deslauriers was in 5 
advance with his cart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheeling 
from the track, he began to turn his own team in the same 
direction. 

" Go on, Deslauriers ; " and the little cart advanced again. 
As we rode on, we soon heard the wagon of our confederates lo 
creaking and jolting behind us, and the driver, Wright, dis- 
charging a furious volley of oaths against his mules ; no 
doubt venting upon them the wrath which he dared not 
direct against a more appropriate object. 

Something of this sort had frequently occurred. Our Eng- 15 
lish companion was by no means partial to us, and we 
thought we discovered in his conduct an intention to thwart 
and annoy us, especially by retarding the movements of the 
party, which he knew that we were anxious to quicken. 
Therefore he would insist on encamping at all unseasonable 20 
hours, saying that fifteen miles was a sufficient day's jour- 
ney. Finding our wishes disregarded, we took the direction 
of affairs into our own hands. Keeping always in advance, 

to the inexpressible indignation of R , we encamped at 

what time and place we thought proper, not much caring 25 
whether the rest chose to follow or not. They always did 
so, however, pitching their tent near ours, with sullen and 
wrathful countenances. 

Travelling together on these terms did not suit our tastes, 
and for some time we had meditated a separation. We re- 30 
solved to leave camp early in the morning, and push forward 
as rapidly as possible for Fort Laramie, which we hoped to 
reach, by hard travelling, in four or five days. The cap- 
tain soon trotted up between us, and we explained our 
intentions. 



78 THE OREGON TRAIL 

" A very extraordinary proceeding, upon my word ! " he 
remarked. The most prominent impression in his mind evi- 
dently was that we were deserting his party, in what he 
regarded as a very dangerous stage of the journey. We ven- 

5 tured to suggest that we were only four in number, while 
his party still included sixteen men ; and as we were to go 
forward and they were to follow, a full proportion of the 
perils he apprehended would fall upon us. But the austerity 
of the captain's features would not relax. " A very extra- 

10 ordinary proceeding, gentlemen ! " and repeating this, he 
rode off to confer with his principal. 

Before sunrise on the next morning our tent was down ; 
we harnessed our best horses to the cart and left the camp. 
But first we shook hands with our friends the emigrants, 

15 who sincerely wished us a safe journey, though some others 
of the party might easily have been consoled had we en- 
countered an Indian war-party on the way. The captain and 
his brother were standing on the top of a hill, wrapped in 
their plaids, like spirits of the mist, keeping an anxious eye 

20 on the band of horses below. We waved adieu to them as 
we rode off the ground. The captain replied with a saluta- 
tion of the utmost dignity, which Jack tried to imitate, 
though not with perfect success. 

In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, but 

25 here we came to a stop. Hendrick was in the shafts, and 
being the incarnation of perverse and brutish obstinacy, he 
utterly refused to move. Deslauriers lashed and swore till 
he was tired, but Hendrick stood like a rock, grumbling to 
himself and looking askance at his enemy, until he saw a 

30 favorable opportunity to take his revenge, when he struck 
out under the shaft with such cool malignity of intention 
that Deslauriers only escaped the blow by a sudden skip 
into the air, such as no one but a Frenchman could achieve. 
Shaw and he then joined forces, and lashed on both sides at 
once. The brute stood still for a while, till he could bear it 



TAKING FRENCH J.EAVE 79 

no longer, when he began to kick and plunge till he threat- 
ened the utter demolition of the cart and harness. We 
glanced back at the camp, which was in full sight. Our 
companions, inspired by emulation, were levelling their tents 
and driving in their cattle and horses. 5 

" Take the horse out," said I. 

I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon Hendrick ; 
the former was harnessed to the cart in an instant. " Avance 
done! " cried Deslauriers. Pontiac strode up the hill, twitch- 
ing the little cart after him as if it were a feather's weight ; lo 
and though, as we gained the top, we saw the wagons of our 
deserted comrades just getting into motion, we had little 
fear that they could overtake us. 

Leaving the trail, we struck directly across the country, 
and took the shortest cut to reach the main stream of the 15 
Platte. A deep ravine suddenly intercepted us. We skirted 
its sides until we found them less abrupt, and then plunged 
through in the best way we could. Passing behind the sandy 
ravines called " Ash Hollow," we stopped for a short noon- 
ing at the side of a pool of rain-water ; but soon resumed 20 
our journey, and some hours before sunset descended the 
ravines and gorges opening downward upon the Platte west 
of Ash Hollow. Our horses waded to the fetlock in sand ; 
the sun scorched like fire, and the air swarmed with sand- 
flies and mosquitoes. 25 

At last we gained the Platte. Following it for about five 
miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great meadow, 
dotted with hundreds of cattle, and beyond them an encamp- 
ment of emigrants. A party of them came out to meet us, 
looking upon us at first with cold and suspicious faces. See- 30 
ing four men, different in appearance and equipment from 
themselves, emerging from the hills, they had taken us for 
the van of the much-dreaded Mormons, whom they were 
very apprehensive of encountering. We made known our 
true character, and then they greeted us cordially. They 



80 THE OREGON TRAIL 

expressed much surprise that so small a party should ven- 
ture to traverse that region, though in fact such attempts 
are often made by trappers and Indian traders. We rode 
with them to their camp. The wagons, some fifty in number, 

5 with here and there a tent intervening, were arranged as 
usual in a circle ; the best horses were picketed in the area 
within, and the whole circumference was glowing with the 
dusky light of fires, displaying the forms of the women and 
children who were crowded around them. This patriarchal 

10 scene was curious and striking enough ; but we made our 
escape from the place with all possible despatch, being tor- 
mented by the intrusive questioning of the men who thronged 
about us. Yankee curiosity was nothing to theirs. They 
demanded our names, whence we came, whither we were 

15 going, and what was our business. The last query was par- 
ticularly embarrassing ; since travelling in that country, or 
indeed anywhere, from any other motive than gain, was an 
idea of which they took no cognizance. Yet they were, fine- 
looking fellows, with an air of frankness, generosity, and 

20 even courtesy, having come from one of the least barbarous 
of the frontier counties. 

We passed about a mile beyond them, and encamped. 
Being too few in number to stand guard without excessive 
fatigue, we extinguished our fire, lest it should attract the 

25 notice of wandering Indians ; and, picketing our horses close 

around us, slept undisturbed till morning. For three days 

we travelled without interruption, and on the evening of the 

third encamped by the well-known spring on Scott's Bluff. 

Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, and, de- 

30 scending the western side of the Bluff, were crossing the 
plain beyond. Something that seemed to me a file of buffalo 
came into view, descending the hills several miles before us. 
But Henry reined in his horse, and, peering across the 
prairie with a better and more practised eye, soon discovered 
its real nature. '^ Indians ! " he said. " Old Smoke's lodges. 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 81 

I b'lieve. Come ; let us go ! Wah ! get up, now, ^ Five Hun- 
dred Dollar.' " And laying on the lash with good will, he 
galloped forward, and I rode by his side. Not long after, a 
black speck became visible on the prairie, full two miles off. 
It grew larger and larger; it assumed the form of a man 5 
and horse ; and soon we could discern a naked Indian, 
careering at full gallop towards us. When within a furlong 
he wheeled his horse in a wide circle, and made him describe 
various mystic figures upon the prairie ; Henry immediately 
compelled '' Five Hundred Dollar " to execute similar evo- 10 
lutions. '^ It is Old Smoke's village," said he, interpreting 
these signals ; " did n't I say so ? " 

As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for him, 
when suddenly he vanished, sinking, as it were, into the 
earth. He had come upon one of the deep ravines that every- 15 
where intersect these prairies. In an instant the rough head 
of his horse stretched upward from the edge, and the rider 
and steed came scrambling out, and bounded up to us ; a 
sudden jerk of the rein brought the wild panting horse to a 
full stop. Then followed the needful formality of shaking 20 
hands. I forget our visitor's name. He was a young fellow, 
of no note in his nation ; yet in his person and equipments 
he was a good specimen of a Dahcotah warrior in his or- 
dinary travelling dress. Like most of his people, he was 
nearly six feet high ; lithely and gracefully, yet strongly 25 
proportioned ; and with a skin singularly clear and delicate. 
He wore no paint ; his head was bare ; and his long hair 
was gathered in a clump behind, to the top of which was at- 
tached transversely, both by way of ornament and of talis- 
man, the mystic whistle, made of the wingbone of the war- 30 
eagle, and endowed with various magic virtues. From the 
back of his head descended a line of glittering brass plates, 
tai^ering from the size of a doubloon to that of a half-dime, 
a cumbrous ornament, in high vogue among the Dahcotahs, 
and for which they pay the traders a most extravagant price ; 



82 THE OREGON TRAIL 

his chest and arms were naked, the buffalo-robe, worn over 
them when at rest, had fallen about his waist, and was con- 
fined there by a belt. This, with the gay moccasons on his 
feet, completed his attire. For arms he carried a quiver of 

5 dogskin at his back, and a rude but powerful bow in his hand. 
His horse had no bridle ; a cord of hair, lashed around his 
jaw, served in place of one. The saddle was made of wood 
covered with raw hide, and both pommel and cantle rose 
perpendicularly full eighteen inches, so that the warrior was 

10 wedged firmly in his seat, whence nothing could dislodge 
him but the bursting of the girths. 

Advancing with our new companion, we found more of 
his people, seated in a circle on the top of a hill ; while a 
rude procession came straggling down the neighboring hol- 

15 low, men, women, and children, with horses dragging the 
lodge-poles behind them. All that morning, as we moved 
forward, tall savages were stalking silently about us. At 
noon we reached Horse Creek. The main body of the In- 
dians had arrived before us. On the farther bank stood a 

20 large and strong man, nearly naked, holding a white horse 
by a long cord, and eying us as we approached. This was the 
chief, whom Henry called " Old Smoke." Just behind him, 
his youngest and favorite squaw sat astride a fine mule, 
covered with caj)arisons of whitened skins, garnished with 

25 blue and white beads, and fringed with little ornaments of 
metal that tinkled with every movement of the animal. The 
girl had a light clear complexion, enlivened by a spot of 
vermilion on each cheek ; she smiled, not to say grinned, 
upon us, showing two gleaming rows of white teeth. In her 

30 hand she carried the tall lance of her unchivalrous lord, 
fluttering with feathers ; his round white shield hung at the 
side of her mule ; and his pipe was slung at her back. Her 
dress was a tunic of deer-skin, made beautifully white by 
means of a species of clay found on the prairie, ornamented 
with beads, arranged in figures more gay than tasteful, and 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 83 

with long fringes at all the seams. Xot far from the chief 
stood a group of stately figures, their white buffalo-robes 
thrown over their shoulders, gazing coldly upon us ; and in 
the rear, for several acres, the ground was covered with a 
temporary encampment. Warriors, women, and children 5 
swarmed like bees ; hundreds of dogs, of all sizes and colors, 
ran restlessly about ; and, close at hand, the wide shallow 
stream was alive with boys, girls, and young squaws, splash- 
ing, screaming, and laughing in the water. At the same time a 
long train of emigrants with their heavy wagons was crossing lo 
the creek, and dragging on in slow procession by the encamp- 
ment of the people whom they and their descendants, in the 
space of a century, are to sweep from the face of the earth. 
The encampment itself was merely a temporary one dur- 
ing the heat of the day. None of the lodges were pitched ; 15 
but their heavy leather coverings, and the long poles used 
to support them, were scattered everywhere, among weapons, 
domestic utensils, and the rude harness of mules and horses. 
The squaws of each lazy warrior had made him a shelter 
from the sun, by stretching a few buffalo-robes, or the corner 20 
of a lodge-covering, upon poles ; and liere he sat in the 
shade, with a favorite young squaw, perhaps, at his side, 
glittering with all imaginable trinkets. Before him stood 
the insignia of his rank as a warrior, his white shield of 
bull-hide, his medicine-bag, his bow and quiver, his lance 25 
and his pipe, raised aloft on a tripod of poles. Except the 
dogs, the most active and noisy tenants of the camp were 
the old women, ugly as Macbeth's witches, with hair stream- 
ing loose in the wind, and nothing but the tattered fragment 
of an old buffalo-robe to hide their shrivelled limbs. The 30 
day of their favoritism passed two generations ago ; now the 
heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon them ; they must 
harness the horses, pitch the lodges, dress the buffalo-robes, 
and bring in meat for the hunters. With the cracked voices 
of these hags, the clamor of dogs, the shouting and laughing 



84 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of children and girls, and the listless tranquillity of the war- 
riors, the whole scene had an effect too lively and pictur- 
esque to be forgotten. 

We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and having 

5 invited some of the chiefs and warriors to dinner, placed 
before them a repast of biscuit and coffee. Squatted in a 
half-circle on the ground, they soon disposed of it. As we 
rode forward on the afternoon journey, several of our late 
guests accompanied us. Among the rest was a bloated savage, 

10 of more than three hundred pounds' weight, christened Le 
CocJion, in consideration of his preposterous dimensions, and 
certain corresponding traits of his character. " The Hog " 
bestrode a little white pony, scarcely able to bear up under 
the enormous burden, though, by way of keeping up the 

15 necessary stimulus, the rider kept both feet in constant 
motion, playing alternately against his ribs. The old man 
was not a chief; he never had ambition enough to become 
one ; he was not a warrior nor a hunter, for he was too fat 
and lazy ; but he was the richest man in the village. Eiches 

20 among the Dahcotahs consist in horses, and of these " The 
Hog " had accumulated more than thirty. He had already 
ten times as many as he wanted, yet still his appetite for 
horses was insatiable. Trotting up to me, he shook me by 
the hand, and gave me to understand that he was my de- 

25 voted friend ; then he began a series of signs and gesticula- 
tion, his oily countenance radiant with smiles, and his little 
eyes peeping out with a cunning twinkle from between the 
masses of flesh that almost obscured them. Knowing nothing 
at that time of the sign-language of the Indians, I could 

30 only guess at his meaning. So I called on Henry to explain it. 
'' The Hog," it seems, was anxious to conclude a matri- 
monial bargain, and barter one of his daughters for my 
horse. These overtures I chose to reject ; at which " The 
Hog," still laughing with undiminished good humor, gathered 
his robe about his shoulders, and rode away. 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 85 

Where we encamped that night, an arm of the Platte ran 
between high bluffs ; it was turbid and swift as heretofore, 
but trees were growing on its crumbling banks, and there 
was a nook of grass between the water and the hill. Just 
before entering this place, we saw the emigrants encamping 5 
two or three miles distant on the right; while the whole 
Indian rabble were pouring down the neighboring hill in 
hope of the same sort of entertainment which they had ex- 
perienced from us. In the savage landscape before our 
camp, nothing but the rushing of the Platte broke the 10 
silence. Through the ragged boughs of the trees, dilap- 
idated and half dead, we saw the sun setting in crimson 
behind the peaks of the Black Hills ; the restless bosom of 
the river was suffused with red ; our white tent was tinged 
with it, and the sterile bluffs, up to the rocks that crowned 15 
them, partook of the same fiery hue. It soon passed away ; no 
light remained but that from our fire, blazing high among the 
dusky trees and bushes, while we lay around it wrapped in 
our blankets, smoking and conversing through half the night. 

We crossed a sun-scorched plain on the next morning ; the 20 
line of old cotton-wood trees that fringed the bank of the 
Platte forming its extreme verge. Nestled close beneath 
them, we could discern in the distance something like a 
building. As we came nearer, it assumed form and dimen- 
sions, and proved to be a rough structure of logs. It was a 25 
little trading fort, belonging to two private traders ; and 
originally intended, like all the forts of the country, to form 
a hollow square, with rooms for lodging and storage open- 
ing upon the area within. Only two sides of it had been 
completed ; the place was now as ill-fitted for the purposes 30 
of defence as any of those little log-houses which upon our 
constantly-shifting frontier have been so often successfully 
held against overwhelming odds of Indians. Two lodges 
were pitched close to the fort ; the sun beat scorching upon 
the logs ; no living thing was stirring except one old squaw. 



86 THE OREGON TRAIL 

who thrust her round head from the opening of the nearest 
lodge, and three or four stout young puppies, who were 
peeping with looks of eager inquiry from under the covering. 
In a moment a door opened, and a little, swarthy, black- 

5 eyed Frenchman came out. His dress was rather singular ; 
his black curling hair was parted in the middle of his head, 
and fell below his shoulders ; he wore a tight frock of smoked 
deer-skin, gayly ornamented with figures worked in dyed por- 
cupine-quills. His moccasons and leggins were also gaudily 

10 adorned in the same manner ; and the latter had in addition 
a line of long fringes, reaching down the seams. The small 
frame of Richard, for by this name Henry made him known 
to us, was in the highest degree athletic and vigorous. There 
was no superfluity, and indeed there seldom is among the 

15 white men of this country, but every limb was compact and 
hard ; every sinew had its full tone and elasticity, and the 
whole man wore an air of mingled hardihood and buoyancy. 
Richard committed our horses to a Navaho slave, a mean- 
looking fellow, taken prisoner on the Mexican frontier ; and, 

20 relieving us of our rifles with ready politeness, led the way 
into the principal apartment of his establishment. This was 
a room ten feet square. The walls and floor were of black 
mud, and the roof of rough timber ; there was a huge fire- 
place made of four flat rocks, picked up on the prairie. An 

25 Indian bow and otter-skin quiver, several gaudy articles of 
Rocky Mountain finery, an Indian medicine-bag, and a pipe 
and tobacco-pouch, garnished the walls, and rifles rested in 
a corner. There was no furniture except a sort of rough 
settle, covered with buffalo-robes, upon which lolled a tall 

30 half-breed with his hair glued in masses upon each temple, 
and saturated with vermilion. Two or three more " moun- 
tain men " sat cross-legged on the floor. Their attire was 
not unlike that of Richard himself; but the most striking 
figure of the group was a naked Indian boy of sixteen, with 
a handsome face, and light, active proportions, who sat in 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE 87 

an easy posture in the corner near the door. Not one of his 
limbs moved the breadth of a hair ; his eye was fixed im- 
movably, not on any person present, but, as it appeared, on 
the projecting corner of the fireplace opposite to him. 

On the prairie the custom of smoking with friends is sel- 5 
dom omitted, whether among Indians or whites. The pipe, 
therefore, was taken from the wall, and its red bowl crammed 
with the tobacco and shongsasha, mixed in suitable propor- 
tions. Then it passed round the circle, each man inhaling 
a few whiffs and handing it to his neighbor. Having spent lo 
half an hour here, we took our leave ; first inviting our new 
friends to dl'ink a cup of coffee with us at our camp a mile 
farther up the river. 

By this time we had grown rather shabby ; our clothes had 
burst into rags and tatters ; and, what was worse, we had 15 
little means of renovation. Fort Laramie was but seven miles 
before us. Being averse to appearing in such a plight among 
any society that could boast an approximation to the civilized, 
we stopped by the river to make our toilet in the best way 
we could. We hung up small looking-glasses against the trees 20 
and shaved, an operation neglected for six weeks ; we per- 
formed our ablutions in the Platte, though the utility of such 
a proceeding was questionable, the water looking exactly like 
a cup of chocolate, and the banks consisting of the softest and 
richest yellow mud, so that we were obliged, as a preliminary, 25 
to build a causeway of branches and twigs. Having also put 
on radiant moccasons, procured from a squaw of Richard's 
establishment, and made what other improvements our nar- 
row circumstances allowed, we took our seats on the grass 
with a feeling of greatly increased respectability, to await 30 
the arrival of our guests. They came ; the banquet was con- 
cluded, and the pipe smoked. Bidding them adieu, we turned 
our horses' heads towards the fort. 

An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across our front, 
and we could see no farther ; until, having surmounted them, 



88 THE OREGON TRAIL 

a rapid stream appeared at the foot of the descent, running 
into the Platte ; beyond was a green meadow, dotted with 
bushes, and in the midst of these, at the point where the two 
rivers joined, were the low clay walls of a fort. This was not 

5 Fort Laramie, but another post, of less recent date, which 
having sunk before its successful competitor, was now de- 
serted and ruinous. A moment after, the hills seeming to 
draw apart as we advanced, disclosed Fort Laramie itself, its 
high bastions and perpendicular walls of clay crowning an 

10 eminence on the left beyond the stream, while behind stretched 

a line of arid and desolate ridges, and behind these again, 

towering seven thousand feet aloft, rose the grim Black Hills. 

We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a j^oint nearly opposite 

the fort, but the stream, swollen with rains, was too rapid. 

15 We passed up along its bank to find a better crossing-place. 
Men gathered on the wall to look at us. '' There 's Bor- 
deaux ! " called Henry, his face brightening as he recog- 
nized his acquaintance ; " him there with the spy-glass ; 
and there 's old Vaskiss, and Tucker, and May ; and, by 

20 George ! there 's Simoneau." This Simoneau was Henry's 
fast friend, and the only man in the country who could 
rival him in hunting. 

We soon found a ford. Henry led the way, the pony ap- 
proaching the bank with a countenance of cool indifference, 

25 bracing his feet and sliding into the stream with the most 
unmoved composure. We followed ; the water boiled against 
our saddles, but our horses bore us easily through. The un- 
fortunate little mules were near going down with the current, 
cart and all ; and we watched them with some solicitude 

30 scrambling over the loose round stones at the bottom, and 
bracing stoutly against the stream. All landed safely at 
last ; we crossed a little plain, descended a hollow, and, riding 
up a steep bank, found ourselves before the gateway of Fort 
Laramie, under the impending blockhouse erected above it 
to defend the entrance. 



CHAPTER IX 
SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 

Looking back, after the expiration of a year, upon Fort 
Laramie and its inmates, they seem less like a reality than 
like some fanciful picture of the olden time ; so different was 
the scene from any which this tamer side of the world can 
present. Tall Indians, enveloped in their white buffalo-robes, 5 
were striding across the area or reclining at full length on 
the low roofs of the buildings which enclosed it. Numerous 
squaws, gayly bedizened, sat grouped in front of the rooms 
they occupied ; their mongrel offspring, restless and vocifer- 
ous, rambled in every direction through the fort ; and the 10 
trappers, traders, and engages of the establishment were 
busy at their labor or their amusements. 

We were met at the gate, but by no means cordially wel- 
comed. Indeed, we seemed objects of some distrust and 
suspicion, until Henry Chatillon explained that we were not 15 
traders, and we, in confirmation, handed to the bourgeois a 
letter of introduction from his principals. He took it, turned 
it upside down, and tried hard to read it ; but his literary 
attainments not being adequate to the task, he applied for 
relief to the clerk, a sleek, smiling Frenchman, named 20 
Monthalon. The letter read, Bordeaux (the bourgeois) 
seemed gradually to awaken to a sense of what was expected 
of him. Though not deficient in hospitable intentions, he 
was wholly unaccustomed to act as master of ceremonies. 
Discarding all formalities of reception, he did not honor us 25 
with a single word, but walked swiftly across the area, while 
we followed in some admiration to a railing and a flight of 
steps opposite the entrance. He signed to us that we had 



90 THE OREGON TRAIL 

better fasten our horses to the railing ; then he walked up 
the steps, tramped along a rude balcony, and, kicking open 
a door, displayed a large room, rather more elaborately fur- 
nished than a barn. For furniture it had a rough bedstead, 

5 but no bed ; two chairs, a chest of drawers, a tin pail to hold 
water, and a board to cut tobacco upon. A brass crucifix 
hung on the wall, and close at hand a recent scalp, with hair 
full a yard long, was suspended from a nail. I shall again 
have occasion to mention this dismal trophy, its history be- 

10 ing connected with that of our subsequent proceedings. 

This ap)artment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that usually 
occupied by the legitimate hourgmls, Papin, in whose absence 
the command devolved upon Bordeaux. The latter, a stout, 
bluff little fellow, much inflated by a sense of his new au- 

15 thority, began to roar for buffalo-robes. These being brought 
and spread upon the floor, formed our beds ; much better 
ones than we had of late been accustomed to. Our arrange- 
ments made, we stepped out to the balcony to take a more 
leisurely survey of the long-looked-for haven at which we 

20 had arrived at last. Beneath us was the square area sur- 
rounded by little rooms, or rather cells, which opened upon 
it. These were devoted to various purposes, but served 
chiefly for the accommodation of the men employed at the 
fort, or of the equally numerous squaws whom they were 

25 allowed to maintain in it. Opposite to us rose the blockhouse 
above the gateway ; it was adorned with the figure of a 
horse at full speed, daubed upon the boards with red paint, 
and exhibiting a degree of skill which might rival that dis- 
played by the Indians in executing similar designs upon 

30 their robes and lodges. A busy scene was enacting in the 
area. The wagons of Vaskiss, an old trader, were about to 
set out for a remote post in the mountains, and the Cana- 
dians were going through their preparations with all possible 
bustle, while here and there an Indian stood looking on with 
imperturbable gravity. 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 91 

Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the 
'' American Fur Compan}^," which wellnigh monopolizes 
the Indian trade of this region. Here its officials rule with 
an absolute sway ; the arm of the United States has little 
force ; for when we were there, the extreme outposts of her 5 
troops were about seven hundred miles to the eastward. The 
little fort is built of bricks dried in the sun, and externally 
is of an oblong form, with bastions of clay, in the form of 
ordinary blockhouses, at two of the corners. The walls are 
about fifteen feet high, and surmounted by a slender pali- lo 
sade. The roofs of the apartments within, which are built 
close against the walls, serve the purpose of a banquette. 
Within, the fort is divided by a partition : on one side is the 
square area, surrounded by the'store-rooms, offices, and apart- 
ments of the inmates ; on the other is the corral, a narrow 15 
place, encompassed by the high clay walls, where at night, or 
in presence of dangerous Indians, the horses and mules of 
the fort are crowded for safe keeping. The main entrance 
has two gates, with an arched passage intervening. A little 
square window, high above the ground, opens laterally from 20 
an adjoining chamber into this passage ; so that when the 
inner gate is closed and barred, a person without may still 
hold communication with those within, through this narrow 
aperture. This obviates the necessity of admitting suspicious 
Indians, for purposes of trading, into the body of the fort ; 25 
for when danger is apprehended, the inner gate is shut fast, 
and all traffic is carried on by means of the window. This 
precaution, though necessary at some of the company's posts, 
is seldom resorted to at Fort Laramie ; where, though men 
are frequently killed in the neighborhood, no apprehensions m 
are felt of any general designs of hostility from the Indians. 

We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. 
The door was silently pushed open, and two eyeballs and a 
visage as black as night looked in upon us ; then a red arm 
and shoulder intruded themselves, and a tall Indian, gliding 



92 THE OREGON TRAIL 

in, shook us by the hand, grunted his salutation, and sat 
down on the floor. Others followed, with faces of the 
natural hue, and letting fall their heavy robes from their 
shoulders, took their seats, quite at ease, in a semicircle be- 

5 fore us. The pipe was now to be lighted and passed 
from one to another; and this was the only entertainment 
that at present they expected from us. These visitors were 
fathers, brothers, or other relatives of the squaws in the 
fort, where they were permitted to remain, loitering about 

10 in perfect idleness. All those who smoked with us were men 
of standing and repute. Two or three others dropped in also ; 
young fellows who neither by their years nor their exploits 
were entitled to rank with the old men and warriors, and 
who, abashed in the presence of their superiors, stood aloof, 

15 never withdrawing their eyes from us. Their cheeks were 
adorned with vermilion, their ears with pendants of shell, 
and their necks with beads. Never yet having signalized 
themselves as hunters, or performed the honorable exploit 
of killing a man, they were held in slight esteem, and were 

20 diffident and bashful in proportion. Certain formidable in- 
conveniences attended this influx of visitors. They were 
bent on inspecting everything in the room ; our equipments 
and our dress alike underwent their scrutiny ; for though 
the contrary has been asserted, few beings have more curi- 

25 osity than Indians in regard to subjects within their ordi- 
nary range of thought. As to other matters, indeed, they 
seem utterly indifferent. They will not trouble themselves 
to inquire into what they cannot comprehend, but are quite 
contented to place their hands over their mouths in token 

30 of wonder, and exclaim that it is " great medicine." With 
this comprehensive solution, an Indian never is at a loss. He 
never launches into speculation and conjecture ; his reason 
moves in its beaten track. His soul is dormant ; and no 
exertions of the missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of the old 
world or of the new, have as yet availed to arouse it. 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 93 

As we were looking, at sunset, from the wall, upon the 
desolate plains that surround the fort, we observed a cluster 
of strange objects, like scaffolds, rising in the distance against 
the red western sky. They bore aloft some singular-looking 
burdens ; and at their foot glimmered something white, like 5 
bones. This was the place of sepulture of some Dahcotah 
chiefs, Avhose remains their people are fond of placing in 
the vicinity of the fort, in the hope that they may thus be 
protected from violation at the hands of their enemies. Yet 
it has happened more than once, and quite recently, that lo 
war-parties of the Crow Indians, ranging through the 
country, have thrown the bodies from the scaffolds, and 
broken them to pieces, amid the yells of the Dahcotah, who 
remained pent up in the fort, too few to defend the honored 
relics from insult. The white objects upon the ground were 15 
buffalo skulls, arranged in the mystic circle commonly seen 
at Indian places of sepulture upon the prairie. 

We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or 
sixty horses approaching the fort. These were the animals 
belonging to the establishment ; who, having been sent out 20 
to feed, under the care of armed guards, in the meadows be- 
low, were now being driven into the corral for the night. A 
gate opened into this enclosure : by the side of it stood one 
of the guards, an old Canadian, with gray bushy eyebrows, 
and a dragoon-pistol stuck into his belt ; while his comrade, 25 
mounted on horseback, his rifle laid across the saddle in 
front, and his long hair blowing before his swarthy face, rode 
at the rear of the disorderly troop, urging them up the ascent. 
In a moment the narrow corral was thronged with the half- 
wild horses, kicking, biting, and crowding restlessly together. 30 

The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian in 
the area, summoned us to supper. The repast was served on 
a rough table in one of the lower apartments of the fort, 
and consisted of cakes of bread and dried buffalo-meat, — 
an excellent thing for strengthening the teeth. At this meal 



94 THE OREGON TRAIL 

were seated the bourgeois and superior dignitaries of the 
establishment, among whom Henry Chatillon was worthily 
included. No sooner was it finished, than the table was 
spread a second time (the luxury of bread being now, how- 

5 ever, omitted), for the benefit of certain hunters and trap- 
pers of an inferior standing ; while the ordinary Canadian 
engages were regaled on dried meat in one of their lodging- 
rooms. By way of illustrating the domestic economy of 
Fort Laramie, it may not be amiss to introduce in this place 

10 a story current among the men when we were there. 

There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was 
to bring the meat from the store-room for the men. Old 
Pierre, in the kindness of his heart, used to select the fat- 
test and the best pieces for his companions. This did not 

15 long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois, who was greatly dis- 
turbed at such improvidence, and cast about for some means 
to stop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly suited him. 
At the side of the meat-room, and separated from it by a 
clay partition, was another apartment, used for the storage 

20 of furs. It had no communication with the fort, except 
through a square hole in the partition ; and of course it was 
perfectly dark. One evening the bourgeois, watching for a 
moment when no one observed him, dodged into the meat- 
room, clambered through the hole, and ensconced himself 

25 among the furs and buffalo-robes. Soon after, old Pierre 
came in with his lantern, and, muttering to himself, began 
to pull over the bales of meat, and select the best pieces, as 
usual. But suddenly a hollow and sepulchral voice pro- 
ceeded from the inner room : " Pierre, Pierre ! Let that fat 

30 meat alone. Take nothing but lean." Pierre dropped his lan- 
tern, and bolted out into the fort, screaming, in an agony of 
terror, that the devil was in the store-room ; but tripping 
on the threshold, he pitched over upon the gravel, and lay 
senseless, stunned by the fall. The Canadians ran out to the 
rescue. Some lifted the unlucky Pierre ; and others, making 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 95 

an extempore crucifix of two sticks, were proceeding to at- 
tack the devil in his stronghold, when the bourgeois, with a 
crestfallen countenance, appeared at the door. To add to 
his mortification, he was obliged to explain the whole strata- 
gem to Pierre, in order to bring him to his senses. 5 

We were sitting, on the following morning, in the passage- 
way between the gates, conversing with the traders Vaskiss 
and May. These two men, together with our sleek friend, 
the clerk Monthalon, were, I believe, the only persons then 
in the fort who could read and write. May was telling a 10 
curious story about the traveller Catlin, when an ugly, di- 
minutive Indian, wretchedly mounted, came up at a gallop, 
and rode by us into the fort. On being questioned, he said 
that Smoke's village was close at hand. Accordingly only a 
few minutes elapsed before the hills beyond the river were 15 
covered with a disorderly swarm of savages, on horseback 
and on foot. jMay finished his story ; and by that time the 
whole array had descended to Laramie Creek, and begun to 
cross it in a mass. I walked down to the bank. The stream 
is wide, and was then between three and four feet deep, 20 
with a very swift current. For several rods the water was 
alive with dogs, horses, and Indians. The long poles used 
in pitching the lodges are carried by the horses, fastened by 
the heavier end, two or three on each side, to a rude sort 
of pack-saddle, while the other end drags on the ground. 25- 
About a foot behind the horse, a kind of large basket or 
pannier is suspended between the poles, and firmly lashed 
in its place. On the back of the horse are piled various 
articles of luggage; the basket also is well filled with do- 
mestic utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of puppies, a 30 
brood of small children, or a superannuated old man. Num- 
bers of these curious vehicles, traineaiix, or, as the Canadians 
called them, travaux, were now splashing together through 
the stream. Among them swam countless dogs, often bur- 
dened with miniature traineaux ; and dashing forward on 



96 THE OREGON TRAIL 

horseback through the throng came the warriors, the slender 
figure of some lynx-eyed boy clinging fast behind them. 
The women sat perched on the pack-saddles, adding not a 
little to the load of the already overburdened horses. The 
5 confusion was prodigious. The dogs yelled and howled in 
chorus ; the puppies in the traineanx set up a dismal whine, 
as the water invaded their comfortable retreat ; the little 
black-eyed children, from one year of age upward, clung 
fast with both hands to the edge of their basket, and looked 

10 over in alarm at the water rushing so near them, sputtering 
and making wry mouths as it splashed against their faces. 
Some of the dogs, encumbered by their load, were carried 
down by the current, yelping piteously ; and the old squaws 
would rush into the water, seize their favorites by the neck, 

15 and drag them out. As each horse gained the bank, he 
scrambled up as he could. Stray horses and colts came 
among the rest, often breaking away at full speed through 
the crowd, followed by the old hags, screaming after their 
fashion on all occasions of excitement. Buxom young 

20 squaws, blooming in all the charms of vermilion, stood here 
and there on the bank, holding aloft their master's lance, as 
a signal to collect the scattered portions of his houshold. In 
a few moments the crowd melted away ; each family, with 
its horses and equipage, filing off to the plain at the rear of 

.25 the fort ; and here, in the space of half an hour, arose sixty 
or seventy of their tapering lodges. Their horses were feed- 
ing by hundreds over the surrounding prairie, and their 
dogs were roaming everywhere. The fort was full of 
warriors, and the children were whooping and yelling in- 

30 cessantly under the walls. 

These new-comers were scarcely arrived, when Bordeaux 
ran across the fort, shouting to his squaw to bring him his 
spy-glass. The obedient Marie, the very model of a squaw, 
produced the instrument, and Bordeaux hurried with it to 
the wall. Pointing it eastward, he exclaimed, with an oath, 



SCENES AT FORT LA-RAMIE 97 

that the families were coming. But a few moments elapsed 
before the heavy caravan of the emigrant wagons could be 
seen, steadily advancing from the hills. They gained the 
river, and, without turning or pausing, plunged in, passed 
through, and slowly ascending the opposing bank, kept 5 
directly on their way by the fort and the Indian village, 
until, gaining a spot a quarter of a mile distant, they wheeled 
into a circle. For some time our tranquillity w^as undis- 
turbed. The emigrants were preparing their encampment ; 
but no sooner was this accomplished, than Fort Laramie lo 
was taken by storm. A crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin 
visages, and staring eyes, appeared suddenly at the gate. Tall, 
awkward men, in brown homespun ; women, with cadaverous 
faces and long lank figures, came thronging in together, and, 
as if inspired by the very demon of curiosity, ransacked 15 
every nook and corner of the fort. Dismayed at this inva- 
sion, we withdrew in all speed to our chamber, vainly hoping 
that it might prove a sanctuary. The emigrants prosecuted 
their investigations with untiring vigor. They penetrated 
the rooms, or rather dens, inhabited by the astonished 20 
squaws. Resolved to search every mystery to the bottom, 
they explored the apartments of the men, and even that of 
Marie and the bourgeois. At last a numerous deputation ap- 
peared at our door, but found no encouragement to remain. 

Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next pro- 25 
ceeded to business. The men occupied themselves in pro- 
curing supplies for their onward journey ; either buying 
them, or giving in exchange superfluous articles of their 
own. 

The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the French 30 
Indians, as they called the trappers and traders. They 
thought, and with some reason, that these men bore them 
no goodwill. Many of them were firmly persuaded that 
the French were instigating the Indians to attack and cut 
them off. On visiting the encampment we were at once 



98 THE OREGON TRAIL 

struck with the extraordinary perplexity and indecision that 
prevailed among them. They seemed like men totally out 
of their element ; bewildered and amazed, like a troop of 
schoolboys lost in the woods. It was impossible to be long 

5 among them without being conscious of the bold spirit with 
which most of them were animated. But the forest is the 
home of the backwoodsman. On the remote prairie he is 
totally at a loss. He differs as much from the genuine " moun- 
tain-man " as a Canadian voyngeur, paddling his canoe on 

10 the rapids of the Ottawa, differs from an American sailor 
among the storms of Cape Horn. Still my companion and I 
were somewhat at a loss to account for this perturbed state 
of mind. It could not be cowardice : these men were of the 
same stock with the volunteers of Monterey and Buena 

15 Vista. Yet, for the most part, they were the rudest and 
most ignorant of the frontier population ; they knew abso- 
lutely nothing of the country and its inhabitants ; they had 
already experienced much misfortune, and apprehended 
more ; they had seen nothing of mankind, and had never 

20 put their own resources to the test. 

A full share of suspicion fell upon us. Being strangers, 
we were looked upon as enemies. Having occasion for a 
supply of lead and a few other necessary articles, we used 
to go over to the emigrant camps to obtain them. After 

25 some hesitation, some dubious glances, and fumbling of the 
hands in the pockets, the terms would be agreed upon, the 
price tendered, and the emigrant would go off to bring 
the article in question. After waiting until our patience 
gave out, we would go in search of him, and find him 

30 seated on the tongue of his wagon. 

" Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw us ap- 
proach, " I reckon I won't trade." 

Some friend of his had followed him from the scene of 
the bargain, and whispered in his ear that clearly we meant 
to cheat him, and he had better have nothing to do with us. 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 99 

This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly unfor- 
tunate, as it exposed them to real danger. Assume, in the 
presence of Indians, a bold bearing, self-confident yet vigi- 
lant, and you will find them tolerably safe neighbors. But 
your safety depends on the respect and fear you are able to 5 
inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, you convert 
them from that moment into insidious and dangerous en- 
emies. The Dahcotah saw clearly enough the perturbation 
of the emigrants, and instantly availed themselves of it. 
They became extremely insolent and exacting in their de- lo 
mands. It has become an established custom with them to 
go to the camp of every party, as it arrives in succession at 
the fort, and demand a feast. Smoke's village had come 
with this express design, having made several days' journey 
with no other object than that of enjoying a cup of coffee 15 
and two or three biscuit. So the " feast " was demanded, 
and the emigrants dared not refuse it. 

One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. We 
met old men, warriors, squaws, and children in gay attire, 
trooping off to the encampment, with faces of anticipation ; 20 
and, arriving here, they seated themselves in a semicircle. 
Smoke occupied the centre, with his warriors on either 
hand ; the young men and boys came next, the squaws 
and children formed the horns of the crescent. The biscuit 
and coffee were promptly despatched, the emigrants staring 25 
open-mouthed at their savage guests. With each emigrant 
party that arrived at Fort Laramie this scene was renewed ; 
and every day the Indians grew more rapacious and pre- 
sumptuous. One evening they broke in pieces, out of mere 
wantonness, the cups from which they had been feasted; 30 
and this so exasperated the emigrants that many of them 
seized their rifles and could scarcely be restrained from 
firing on the insolent mob of Indians. Before we left the 
country this dangerous spirit on the part of the Dahcotah 
had mounted to a yet higher pitch. They began openly to 



100 THE OREGON TRAIL 

threaten the emigrants with destruction, and actually fired 
upon one or two parties of them. A military force and 
military law are urgently called for in that perilous region ; 
and unless troops are speedily stationed at Fort Laramie, 
5 or elsewhere in the neighborhood, both emigrants and other 
travellers will be exposed to most imminent risks. 

The Ogillallah, the Brule, and the other western bands of 
the Dahcotah or Sioux, are thorough savages, unchanged by 
any contact with civilization. Not one of them can speak 

10 a European tongue, or has ever visited an American settle- 
ment. Until within a year or two, when the emigrants 
began to pass through their country on the way to Oregon, 
they had seen no whites, except the few employed about 
the Fur Company's posts. They thought them a wise people, 

15 inferior only to themselves, living in leather lodges, like 
their own, and subsisting on buffalo. But when the swarm 
of Meneaska, with their oxen and wagons, began to invade 
them, their astonishment was unbounded. They could 
scarcely believe that the earth contained such a multitude 

20 of white men. Their wonder is now giving way to indig- 
nation ; and the result, unless vigilantly guarded against, 
may be lamentable in the extreme. 

But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and I 
used often to visit them. Indeed, we spent most of our 

25 evenings in the Indian village, Shaw's assumption of the 
medical character giving us a fair pretext. As a sample of 
the rest I will describe one of these visits. The sun had 
just set, and the horses were driven into the corral. The 
Prairie Cock, a noted beau, came in at the gate with a bevy 

30 of young girls, with wliom he began a dance in the area, 
leading them round and round in a circle, while he jerked 
up from his chest a succession of monotonous sounds, to 
which they kept time in a rueful chant. Outside the gate 
boys and young men were idly frolicking ; and close by, 
looking grimly upon them, stood a warrior in his robe, with 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE 101 

his face painted jet-black, in token that lie liad lately taken 
a Pawnee scalp. Passing these, the tall dark lodges rose 
between us and the red western sky. We repaired at once 
to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. It was by no means 
better than the others ; indeed, it was rather shabby ; for in 5 
this democratic community the chief never assumes supe- 
rior state. Smoke sat cross-legged on a buffalo-robe, and his 
grunt of salutation as we entered was unusually cordial, 
out of respect no doubt to Shaw's medical character. Seated 
around the lodge were several squaws, and an abundance of lo 
children. The complaint of Shaw's patients was, for the 
most part, a severe inflammation of the eyes, occasioned 
by exposure to the sun, a species of disorder which he 
treated with some success. He had brought with him a 
homoeopathic medicine-chest, and was, I presume, the first 15 
who introduced that harmless system of treatment among 
the Ogillallah. No sooner had a robe been spread at the 
head of the lodge for our accommodation, and we had seated 
ourselves upon it, than a patient made her appearance : the 
chief's daughter herself, who, to do her justice, was the 20 
best-looking girl in the village. Being on excellent terms 
with the ■ physician, she placed herself readily under his 
hands, and submitted with a good grace to his applications, 
laughing in his face during the whole process, for a squaw 
hardly knows how to smile. This case despatched, another of 25 
a different kind succeeded. A hideous, emaciated old woman 
sat in the darkest corner of the lodge, rocking to and fro with 
pain, and hiding her eyes from the light by pressing the 
palms of both hands against her face. At Smoke's command 
she came forward, very unwillingly, and exhibited a pair of 30 
eyes that had nearly disappeared from excess of inflamma- 
tion. No sooner had the doctor fastened his grip upon her, 
than she set up a dismal moaning, and writhed so in his 
grasp that he lost all patience ; but being resolved to carry his 
point, he succeeded at last in applying his favorite remedies. 



102 THE OREGON TRAIL 

" It is strange/' he said, when the operation was finished, 
" that I forgot to bring any Spanish flies with me ; we must 
have something here to answer for a counter-irritant." 
So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot 

5 brand from the fire, and clapped it against the temple of 
the old squaw, who set up an unearthly howl, at which the 
rest of the family broke into a laugh. 

During these medical operations Smoke's eldest squaw 
entered the lodge, with a mallet in her hand, the stone head 

10 of which, precisely like those sometimes ploughed up in the 
fields of New England, was made fast to the handle by a 
covering of raw hide. I had observed some time before a 
litter of well-grown black puppies, comfortably nestled 
among some buffalo-robes at one side ; but this new-comer 

15 speedily disturbed their enjoyment ; for seizing one of them 
by the hind paw, she dragged him out, and carrying him to 
the entrance of the lodge, hammered him on the head till 
she killed him. Conscious to what this preparation tended, 
I looked through a hole in the back of the lodge to see the 

20 next steps of the process. The squaw, holding the puppy 
by the legs, was swinging him to and fro through the blaze 
of a fire, until the hair was singed off. This done, she un- 
sheathed her knife and cut him into small pieces, which she 
dropped into a kettle to boil. In a few moments a large 

25 wooden dish was set before us, filled with this delicate 
preparation. A dog-feast is the greatest compliment a Dah- 
cotah can offer to his guest ; and, knowing that to refuse 
eating would be an affront, we attacked the little dog, and 
devoured him before the eyes of his unconscious parent. 

30 Smoke in the mean time was preparing his great pipe. It 
was lighted when we had finished our repast, and we passed 
it from one to another till the bowl was empty. This done, 
we took our leave without farther ceremony, knocked at the 
gate of the fort, and, after making ourselves known, were 
admitted. 



CHAPTER X 
THE WAR-PARTIES 

The summer of 1846 was a season of warlike excitement 
among all the western bands of the Dahcotah. In 1845 they 
encountered great reverses. Many war-parties had been 
sent out ; some of them had been cut off, and others had 
returned broken and disheartened ; so that the whole nation 5 
was in mourning. Among the rest, ten warriors had gone 
to the Snake country, led by the son of a prominent Ogil- 
lallah chief, called The Whirlwind. In passing over Laramie 
Plains they encountered a superior number of their enemies, 
were surrounded, and killed to a man. Having performed 10 
this exploit, the Snakes became alarmed, dreading the re- 
sentment of the Dahcotah ; and they hastened therefore to 
signify their wish for peace by sending the scalp of the 
slain partisan, with a small parcel of tobacco attached, to his 
tribesmen and relations. They had employed old Vaskiss, 15 
the trader, as their messenger, and the scalp was the same 
that hung in our room at the fort. But The Whirlwind 
proved inexorable. Though his character hardly corresponds 
with his name, he is nevertheless an Indian, and hates 
the Snakes with his whole soul. Long before the scalp ar- 20 
rived, he had made his preparations for revenge. He sent 
messengers with presents and tobacco to all the Dahcotah 
within three hundred miles, proposing a grand combination 
to chastise the Snakes, and naming a place and time of ren- 
dezvous. The plan was readily adopted, and at this moment 25 
many villages, probably embracing in the ^Vhole five or six 
thousand souls, were slowly creeping over the prairies and 
tending towards the common centre at " La Bonte's camp," 

103 



104 THE OREGON TRAIL 

on the Platte. Here their warlike rites were to be celebrated 
with more than ordinary solemnity, and a thousand war- 
riors, as it was said, were to set out for the enemy's country. 
The characteristic result of this preparation will appear in 
5 the sequel. 

I was greatly rejoiced to hear of it. I had come into the 
country chiefly with a view of observing the Indian charac- 
ter. To accomplish my purpose it was necessary to live in 
the midst of them, and become, as it were, one of them. I 

10 proposed to join a village, and make myself an inmate of 
one of their lodges ; and henceforward this narrative, so 
far as I am concerned, will be chiefly a record of the prog- 
ress of this design, and the unexpected impediments that 
opposed it. 

15 We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous at 
" La Bonte's camp." Our plan was to leave Deslauriers at 
the fort, in charge of our equipage and the better part of 
our horses, while we took with us nothing but our weapons 
and the worst animals we had. In all probability, jealousies 

20 and quarrels would arise among so many hordes of fierce 
impulsive savages, congregated together under no common 
head, and many of them strangers from remote prairies and 
mountains. We were bound in common prudence to be 
cautious how we excited any feeling of cupidity. This was 

25 our plan ; but unhappily we were not destined to visit " La 
Bonte's camp" in this manner, for one morning a young 
Indian came to the fort and brought us evil tidings. The 
new-comer was an arrant dandy. His ugly face was painted 
with vermilion; on his head fluttered the tail of a prairie- 

30 cock (a large species of pheasant, not found, as I have heard, 
eastward of the Rocky Mountains) ; in his ears were hung 
pendants of shell, and a flaming red blanket was wrapped 
around him. He carried a dragoon-sword in his hand, solely 
for display, since the knife, the arrow, and the rifle are the 
arbiters of every prairie fight ; but as no one in this country 



THE WAR-PARTIES 105 

goes abroad unarmed, the dandy carried a bow and arrows 
in an otter-skin quiver at his back. In this guise, and be- 
striding his yellow horse with an air of extreme dignity, 
" The Horse," for that was his name, rode in at the gate, 
turning neither to the right nor the left, but casting glances 5 
askance at the groups of squaws who, with their mongrel 
progeny, were sitting in the sun before their doors. The 
evil tidings brought by " The Horse " were of the following 
import : The squaw of Henry Chatillon, a woman with 
whom he had been connected for years by the strongest lo 
ties which in that country exist between the sexes, was 
dangerously ill. She and her children were in the village of 
The Whirlwind, at the distance of a few days' journey. 
Henry was anxious to see the woman before she died, and 
provide for the safety and support of his children, of Avhom 15 
he was extremely fond. To have refused him this would 
have been inhumanity. We abandoned our plan of joining 
Smoke's village and proceeding with it to the rendezvous, 
and determined to meet The Whirlwind, and go in his 
company. 20 

I had been slightly ill for several weeks, but on the third 
night after reaching Fort Laramie a violent pain awoke me, 
and I found myself attacked by the same disorder that oc- 
casioned such heavy losses to the army on the Rio G-rande. 
In a day and a half I was reduced to extreme weakness, so 25 
that I could not walk without pain and effort. Having no 
medical adviser, nor any choice of diet, I resolved to throw 
myself upon Providence for recovery, using, without regard 
to the disorder, any portion of strength that might remain 
to me. So on the twentieth of June we set out from Fort 30 
Laramie to meet The Whirlwind's village. Though aided by 
the high-bowed " mountain-saddle," I could scarcely keep 
my seat on horseback. Before we left the fort we hired 
another man, a long-haired Canadian, named Raymond, 
with a face like an owl's, contrasting oddly enough with 



106 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Deslauriers's mercurial countenance. This was not the only 
reinforcement to our party. A vagrant Indian trader, 
named Eeynal, joined us, together with his squaw, Margot, 
and her two nephews, our dandy friend, " The Horse," and 
5 his younger brother, " The Hail-Storm." Thus accompanied, 
we betook ourselves to the prairie, leaving the beaten trail, 
and passing over the desolate hills that flank the valley of 
Laramie Creek. In all, Indians and whites, we counted 
eight men and one woman. 

10 Reynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish com- 
placency, carried " The Horse's " dragoon-sword in his hand, 
delighting apparently in this useless parade ; for, from 
spending half his life among Indians, he had caught not 
only their habits but their ideas. Margot, a female animal of 

15 more than two hundred pounds' weight, was couched in the 
basket of a traineau, such as I have before described ; be- 
sides her ponderous bulk, various domestic utensils were 
attached to the vehicle, and she led by a trail-rope a pack- 
horse, which carried the covering of Reynal's lodge. Des- 

20 lauriers walked briskly by the side of the cart, and Raymond 
came behind, swearing at the spare horses which it was his 
business to drive. The restless young Indians, their quivers 
at their backs and their bows in their hands, galloped over 
the hills, often starting a wolf or an antelope from the 

25 thick growth of wild-sage bushes. Shaw and I were in 
keeping with the rest of the rude cavalcade, having in the 
failure of other clothing adopted the buckskin attire of the 
trappers. Henry Chatillon rode in advance of the whole. 
Thus we passed hill after hill and hollow after hollow, a 

30 country arid, broken and so parched by the sun that none 
of the plants familiar to our more favored soil would flourish 
upon it, though there Avere multitudes of strange medicinal 
herbs, more especially the absinth, which covered every 
declivity, while cacti were hanging like reptiles at the edges 
of every ravine. At length we ascended a high hill, our 



THE WAR-PARTIES 107 

horses treading upon pebbles of flint, agate, and rough 
jasper, until, gaining the top, we looked down on the wild 
bottoms of Laramie Creek, which far below us wound like a 
writhing snake from side to side of the narrow interval, 
amid a growth of shattered cotton-wood and ash-trees. 5 
Lines of tall cliffs, white as chalk, shut in this green strip 
of woods and meadow-land, into which we descended and 
encamped for the night. In the morning we passed a wide 
grassy plain by the river ; there was a grove in front, and 
beneath its shadows the ruins of an old trading fort of logs. lO 
The grove bloomed with myriads of wild roses, with their 
sweet perfume fraught with recollections of home. As we 
emerged from the trees, a rattlesnake, as large as a man's arm, 
and more than four feet long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely 
rattling and hissing at us ; a gray hare, twice as large as 15 
those of New England, leaped up from the tall ferns ; cur- 
lew flew screaming over our heads, and a host of little prairie- 
dogs sat yelping at us at the mouths of their burrows on the 
dry plain beyond. Suddenly an antelope leaped up from the 
wild-sage bushes, gazed eagerly at us, and then, erecting his 20 
white tail, stretched away like a greyhound. The two Indian 
boys found a white wolf, as large as a calf, in a hollow, and, 
giving a sharp yell, they galloped after him ; but the wolf 
leaped into the stream and swam across. Then came the 
crack of a rifle, the bullet whistling harmlessly over his 25 
head, as he scrambled up the steep declivity, rattling down 
stones and earth into the water below. Advancing a little, 
we beheld, on the farther bank of the stream, a spectacle 
not common even in that region ; for, emerging from among 
the trees, a herd of some two hundred elk came out upon 30 
the meadow, their antlers clattering as they Avalked forward 
in a dense throng. Seeing us, they broke into a run, rushing 
across the opening and disappearing among the trees and 
scattered groves. On our left was a barren prairie, stretch- 
ing to the horizon ; on our right, a deep gulf, with Laramie 



108 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Creek at the bottom. We found ourselves at length at the 
edge of a steep descent; a narrow valley, with long rank 
grass and scattered trees stretching before us for a mile or 
more along the course of the stream. Reaching the farther 

5 end, we stopped and encamped. A huge old cotton-wood 
tree spread its branches horizontally over our tent. Laramie 
Creek, circling before our camp, half enclosed us ; it swept 
along the bottom of a line of tall white cliffs that looked 
down on us from the farther bank. There were dense copses 

10 on our right; the cliffs, too, were half hidden by bushes, 
though behind us a few cotton-wood trees, dotting the green 
prairie, alone impeded the view, and friend or enemy could 
be discerned in that direction at a mile's distance. Here we 
resolved to remain and await the arrival of The Whirlwind, 

15 who would certainly pass this way in his progress towards 
La Bonte's camp. To go in search of him was not expedient, 
both on account of the broken and impracticable nature of 
the country, and the uncertainty of his position and move- 
ments ; besides, our horses were almost worn out, and I was 

20 in no condition to travel. We had good grass, good water, 
tolerable fish from the stream, and plenty of small game, 
such as antelope and deer, though no buffalo. There was 
one little drawback to our satisfaction : a certain extensive 
tract of bushes and dried grass, just behind us, which it 

25 was by no means advisable to enter, since it sheltered a 
numerous brood of rattlesnakes. Henry Chatillon again 
despatched " The Horse " to the village, with a message to 
his squaw that she and her relatives should leave the rest 
and push on as rapidly as possible to our camp. 

30 Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of a 
well-ordered household. The weather-beaten old tree was in 
the centre ; our rifles generally rested against its vast trunk, 
and our saddles were flung on the ground around it; its 
distorted roots were so twisted as to form one or two con- 
venient armchairs, where we could sit in the shade and read 



THE WAR-PARTIES 109 

or smoke ; but meal-times became, on the whole, the most 
interesting hours of the day, and a bountiful provision was 
made for them. An antelojje or a deer usually swung from 
a bough, and haunches were suspended against the trunk. 
The camp is daguerreotyped on my memory : the old tree, 5 
the white tent, with Shaw sleeping in the shadow of it, and 
Eeynal's miserable lodge close by the bank of the stream. 
It was a wretched oven-shaped structure, made of begrimed 
and tattered buffalo-hides stretched over a frame of poles ; 
one side was open, and at the side of the opening hung the lo 
powder-horn and bullet-pouch of the owner, together with 
his long red pipe, and a rich quiver of otter-skin, with a 
bow and arrows ; for Reynal, an Indian in most things but 
color, chose to hunt buffalo with these primitive weapons. 
In the darkness of this cavern-like habitation might be dis- 15 
cerned Madame ^Margot, her overgrown bulk stowed away 
among her domestic implements, furs, robes, blankets, and 
painted cases of raw hide, in which dried meat is kept. 
Here she sat from sunrise to sunset, an impersonation of 
gluttony and laziness, while her affectionate proprietor was 20 
smoking, or begging petty gifts from us, or telling lies con- 
cerning his own achievements, or perchance engaged in the 
more profitable occupation of cooking some preparation of 
prairie delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this work ; he 
and Deslauriers have joined forces, and are hard at work 25 
together over the fire, while Raymond spreads, by way of 
table-cloth, a buffalo-hide carefully whitened with pipe-clay, 
on the grass before the tent. Here he arranges the teacups 
and plates ; and then, creeping on all fours, like a dog, 
thrusts his head in at the opening of the tent. For a mo- 30 
ment we see his round owlish eyes rolling wildly, as if 
the idea he came to communicate had suddenly escaped 
him ; then collecting his scattered thoughts, as if by an 
effort, he informs us that supper is ready, and instantly 
withdraws. 



110 THE OREGON TRAIL 

When sunset came, and at tliat hour the wild and desolate 
scene would assume a new aspect, the horses were driven 
in. They had been grazing all day in the neighboring 
meadow, but now they were picketed close about the camp. 

5 As the prairie darkened we sat and conversed around the 
fire, until, becoming drowsy, we spread our saddles on the 
ground, wrapped our blankets around us, and lay down. 
We never placed a guard, having by this time become too 
indolent ; but Henry Chatillon folded his loaded rifle in the 

10 same blanket with himself, observing that he always took it 
to bed with him when he 'camped in that place. Henry was 
too bold a man to use such a precaution without good cause. 
We had a hint now and then that our situation was none of 
the safest; several Crow war-parties were known to be in 

15 the vicinity, and one of them, that passed here some time 
before, had peeled the bark from a neighboring tree, and 
engraved upon the white wood certain hieroglyphics, to 
signify that they had invaded the territories of their enemies, 
the Dahcotah^ and set them at defiance. One morning a 

20 thick mist covered the whole country. Shaw and Henry 
went out to ride, and soon came back with a startling piece 
of intelligence ; they had found within rifle-shot of our 
camp the recent trail of about thirty horsemen. They could 
not be whites, and they could not be Dahcotah, since we 

25 knew no such parties to be in the neighborhood ; therefore 
they must be Crows. Thanks to that friendly mist, we 
had escaped a hard battle ; they would inevitably have 
attacked us and our Indian companions had they seen our 
camp. Whatever doubts we might have entertained, were 

30 removed a day or two after, by two or three Dahcotah, who 
came to us with an account of having hidden in a ravine on 
that very morning, from whence they saw and counted the 
Crows ; they said that they followed them, carefully keep- 
ing out of sight, as they passed up Chugwater ; that here 
the Crows discovered five dead bodies of Dahcotah, placed. 



THE WAR-PARTIES 111 

according to custom, in trees, and flinging them to the ground, 
held their guns against them and blew them to atoms. 

If our camp were not altogether safe, still it was comfort- 
able enough ; at least it was so to Shaw, for I was tormented 
with illness and vexed by the delay in the accomplishment 5 
of my designs. When a respite in my disorder gave me 
some returning strength, I rode out well armed upon the 
prairie, or bathed with Shaw in the stream, or waged a 
petty warfare with the inhabitants of a neighboring prairie- 
dog village. Around our fire at night we employed ourselves lo 
in inveighing against the fickleness and inconstancy of 
Indians, and execrating The Whirlwind and all his crew. 
At last the thing grew insufferable. 

" To-morrow morning," said I, " I will start for the fort, 
and see if I can hear any news there." Late that evening, 15 
when the fire had sunk low, and all the camp were asleep, a 
loud cry sounded from the darkness. Henry leaped up, 
recognized the voice, replied to it, and our dandy friend, 
'' The Horse," rode in among us, just returned from his 
mission to the village. He coolly picketed his mare, without 20 
saying a word, sat down by the fire and began to eat, but 
his imperturbable philosophy was too much for our patience. 
Where was the village ? — about fifty miles south of us ; it 
was moving slowly, and would not arrive in less than a 
week. And where was Henry's squaw ? — coming as fast as 25 
she could with Mahto-Tatonka, and the rest of her brothers, 
but she would never reach us, for she was dying, and asking 
every moment for Henry. Henry's manly face became 
clouded and downcast; he said that if we were willing he 
would go in the morning to find her, at which Shaw offered 30 
to accompany him. 

We saddled our horses at sunrise. Reynal protested ve- 
hemently against being left alone, with nobody but the two 
Canadians and the young Indians, when enemies were in the 
neighborhood. Disregarding his complaints, we left him. 



112 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and, coming to the mouth of Chugwater, separated, Shaw 
and Henry turning to the right, up the bank of the stream, 
while I made for the fort. 

Taking leave for a while of my friend and the unfortu- 

5 nate squaw, I w411 relate by way of episode what I saw and 
did at Fort Laramie. It was not more than eighteen miles 
distant, and I reached it in three hours. A shrivelled little 
figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dingy white Canadian 
capote, stood in the gateway, holding by a cord of bull-hide 

10 a shaggy wild-horse, which he had lately caught. His sharp 
prominent features, and his keen snake-like eyes, looked out 
from beneath the shadowy hood of the capote, which was 
drawn over his head like the cowl of a Capuchin friar. His 
face was like an old piece of leather, and his mouth spread 

15 from ear to ear. Extending his long wiry hand, he welcomed 
me with something more cordial than the ordinary cold sa- 
lute of an Indian, for we were excellent friends. We had 
made an exchange of horses to our mutual advantage ; and 
Paul, thinking himself well treated, had declared everywhere 

20 that the white man had a good heart. He was a Dahcotah 
from the Missouri, a reputed son of the half-breed inter- 
preter, Pierre Dorion, so often mentioned in Irving's 
'' Astoria." He said that he was going to Richard's trading- 
house to sell his horse to some emigrants, who were en- 

25 camped there, and asked me to go with him. We forded the 
stream together, Paul dragging his wild charge behind him. 
As we passed over the sandy plains beyond, he grew com- 
municative. Paul was a cosmopolitan in his way ; he had 
been to the settlements of the whites, and visited in peace 

30 and war most of the tribes within the range of a thousand 
miles. He spoke a jargon of French and another of English, 
yet nevertheless he was a thorough Indian ; and as he told 
of the bloody deeds of his own people against their enemies, 
his little eyes would glitter with a fierce lustre. He told 
how the Dahcotah exterminated a village of the Hohays on 



THE WAR-PARTIES 113 

the Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, women, and children ; 
and how, in overwhelming force, they cut off sixteen of the 
brave Delawares, who fought like w^olves to the last, amid 
the throng of their enemies. He told me also another story, 
which I did not believe until I had heard it confirmed from 5 
so many independent sources that my scepticism was almost 
overcome. 

Six years ago, a fellow named Jim Beckworth, a mongrel 
of French, American, and negro blood, was trading for the 
Fur Company, in a large village of the Crows. Jim Beck- 10 
worth was last summer at St. Louis. He is a ruffian of the 
worst stamp ; bloody and treacherous, without honor or 
honesty ; such at least is the character he bears upon the 
prairie. Yet in his case the standard rules of character fail, 
for though he will stab a man in his sleep, he will also per- 15 
form most desperate acts of daring ; such, for instance, as the 
following : While he was in the Crow village, a Blackfoot 
war-party, between thirty and forty in number, came steal- 
ing through the country, killing stragglers and carrying off 
horses. The Crow warriors got upon their trail and pressed 20 
them so closely that they could not escape, at which the 
Blackfeet, throwing up a semi-circular breastwork of logs at 
the foot of a precipice, coolly awaited their approach. The 
logs and sticks, piled four or five feet high, protected them 
in front. The Crows might have swept over the breastwork 25 
and exterminated their enemies ; but though outnumbering 
them tenfold, they did not dream of storming the little 
fortification. Such a proceeding would be altogether repug- 
nant to their notions of warfare. Whooping and yelling, and 
jumping from side to side like devils incarnate, they show- 30 
ered bullets and arrows upon the logs ; not a Blackfoot was 
hurt, but several Crows, in spite of their leaping and dodg- 
ing, were shot down. In this childish manner, the fight 
went on for an hour or two. jS"ow and then a Crow warrior 
in an ecstasy of valor and vainglory would scream forth his 



114 THE OREGON TRAIL 

war-song, boast himself the bravest and greatest of mankind, 
grasp his hatchet, rush up, strike it upon the breastwork, and 
then, as he retreated to his companions, fall dead under a 
shower of arrows ; yet no combined attack was made. The 

5 Blackfeet remained secure in their intrenchment. At last 
Jim Beckworth lost patience. 

'' You are all fools and old women," he said to the Crows ; 
" come with me, if any of you are brave enough, and I will 
show you how to fight." 

10 He threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and stripped 
himself naked, like the Indians themselves. He left his rifle 
on the ground, took in his hand a small light hatchet, and 
ran over the prairie to the right, concealed by a hollow from 
the eyes of the Blackfeet. Then climbing up the rocks, he 

15 gained the top of the precipice behind them. Forty or fifty 
young Crow warriors followed him. By the cries and whoops 
that rose from below he knew that the Blackfeet were just 
beneath him ; and running forward, he leaped down the 
rock into the midst of them. As he fell he caught one by 

20 the long loose hair, and dragging him down, tomahawked 
him ; then grasping another by the belt at his waist, he 
struck him also a stunning blow, and, gaining his feet, 
shouted the Crow war-cry. He swung his hatchet so fiercely 
around him that the astonished Blackfeet bore back and gave 

25 him room. He might, had he chosen, have leaped over the 
breastwork and escaped; but this was not necessary, for 
with devilish yells the Crow warriors came dropping in 
quick succession over the rock among their enemies. The 
main body of the Crows, too, answered the cry from the 

30 front, and rushed up simultaneously. The convulsive strug- 
gle within the breastwork was frightful ; for an instant the 
Blackfeet fought and yelled like pent-up tigers ; but the 
butchery was soon complete, and the mangled bodies lay 
piled together under the precipice. Kot a Blackfoot made 
his escape. 



THE WAR-PARTIES " 115 

• As Paul finished his story we came in sight of Richard's 
Fort, a disorderly crowd of men around it, and an emigrant 
camp a little in front. 

" Now, Paul," said I, " where are your Minnicongew 
lodges ? " 5 

'' Not come yet," said Paul 5 '' maybe come to-morrow." 

Two large villages of a band of Dahcotah had come three 
hundred miles from the Missouri, to join in the war, and 
they were expected to reach Richard's that morning. There 
was as yet no sign of their approach ; so pushing through a 10 
noisy, drunken crowd, I entered an apartment of logs and 
mud, the largest in the fort : it w^as full of men of various 
races and complexions, all more or less drunk. A company 
of California emigrants, it seemed, had made the discovery 
at this late day that they had encumbered themselves with 15 
too many supplies for their journey. A part, therefore, they 
had thrown away, or sold at great loss to the traders ; but 
had determined to get rid of their very copious stock of 
Missouri whiskey, by drinking it on the spot. Here were 
maudlin squaws stretched on piles of buffalo-robes ; squalid 20 
Mexicans, armed with bows and arrows ; Indians sedately 
drunk ; long-haired Canadians and trappers, and American 
backwoodsmen in brown homespun, the well-beloved pistol 
and bowie-knife displayed openly at their sides. In the mid- 
dle of the room a tall, lank man, with a dingy broadcloth 25 
coat, was haranguing the company in the style of the stump 
orator. With one hand he sawed the air, and with the other 
clutched firmly a brown jug of whiskey, which he applied 
every moment to his lips, forgetting that he had drained the 
contents long ago. Richard formally introduced me to this 30 

personage, who was no less a man than Colonel R , once 

the leader of the party. Instantly the colonel, seizing me, in 
the absence of buttons, by the leather fringes of my frock, 
began to define his position. His men, he said, had mutinied 
and deposed him ; but still he exercised over them the 



116 THE OREGON TRAIL 

influence of a superior mind ; in all but the name he was yet 
their chief. As the colonel spoke, I looked round on the wild 
assemblage, and could not help thinking that he was but ill 
fitted to conduct such men across the deserts to California. 

5 Conspicuous among the rest stood three tall young men, 
grandsons of Daniel Boone. They had clearly inherited the 
adventurous character of that prince of pioneers ; but I saw 
no signs of the quiet and tranquil spirit that so remarkably 
distinguished him. 

10 Fearful was the fate that, months after, overtook some of 
the members of that party. General Kearney, on his late 
return from California, brought back their story. They were 
interrupted by the deep snows among the mountains, and, 
maddened by cold and hunger, fed upon each other's flesh ! 

15 I got tired of the confusion. " Come, Paul," said I, " we 
will be off." Paul sat in the sun, under the wall of the fort. 
He jumped up, mounted, and we rode towards Fort Laramie. 
When we reached it, a man came out of the gate with a 
pack at his back and a rifle on his shoulder ; others were 

20 gathering about him, shaking him by the hand, as if taking 
leave. I thought it a strange thing that a man should set 
out alone and on foot for the prairie. I soon got an expla- 
nation. Perrault — this, if I recollect right, was the Cana- 
dian's name — had quarrelled with the bourgeois, and the 

25 fort was too hot to hold him. Bordeaux, inflated with his 
transient authority, had abused him, and received a bloAv in 
return. The men then sprang at each other, and grappled in 
the middle of the fort. Bordeaux was down in an instant, 
at the mercy of the incensed Canadian ; had not an old 

30 Indian, the brother of his squaw, seized hold of his antago- 
nist it would have fared ill with him. Perrault broke loose 
from the old Indian, and both the white men ran to their 
rooms for their guns ; but when Bordeaux, looking from his 
door, saw the Canadian, gun in hand, standing in the area 
and calling on him to come out and fight, his heart failed 



THE WAR-PAllTIES 117 

him ; lie chose to remain where he was. In vain the old 
Indian, scandalized by his brother-in-law's cowardice, called 
upon him to go to the prairie and fight it out in the white 
man's manner ; and Bordeaux 's own squaw, equally in- 
censed, screamed to her lord and master that he was a dog 5 
and an old woman. It all availed nothing. Bordeaux's pru- 
dence got the better of his valor, and he would not stir. 
Perrault stood showering opprobrious epithets at the recreant 
honrgeols, till, growing tired of this, he made up a pack of 
dried meat, and, slinging it at his back, set out alone for Fort 10 
Pierre, on the Missouri, a distance of three hundred miles, 
over a desert country, full of hostile Indians. 

I remained in the fort that night. In the morning, as I 
was coming out from breakfast, talking with a trader named 
McCluskey, I saw a strange Indian leaning against the side 15 
of the gate. He was a tall, strong man, with heavy features. 

'' Who is he ? " I asked. 

''That's The Whirlwind," said McCluskey. ''He is the 
fellow that made all this stir about the war. It 's always the 
way with the Sioux ; they never stop cutting each other's 20 
throats ; it 's all they are fit for ; instead of sitting in their 
lodges, and getting robes to trade with us in the winter. If 
this war goes on, av^ '11 make a poor trade of it next season, 
I reckon." 

And this was the opinion of all the traders, who were 25 
vehemently opposed to the war, from the injury that it must 
occasion to their interests. The Whirlwind left his village 
the day before to make a visit to the fort. His warlike ardor 
had abated not a little since he first conceived the design 
of avenging his son's death. The long and complicated prep- 30 
arations for the expedition were too much for his fickle dis- 
position. That morning Bordeaux fastened upon him, made 
him presents, and told him that if he went to war he would 
destroy his horses and kill no buffalo to trade with the white 
men ; in short, that he was a fool to think of such a thing, 



118 thp: oregox trail 

and had better make up his mind to sit quietly in his lodge 
and smoke his pipe, like a wise man. The Whirlwind's 
purpose was evidently shaken ; he had become tired, like a 
child, of his favorite plan. Bordeaux exultingly predicted 

5 that he would not go to war. My philanthropy was no match 
for my curiosity, and I was vexed at the possibility that 
after all I might lose the rare opportunity of seeing the cere- 
monies of war. The Whirlwind, however, had merely thrown 
the firebrand ; the conflagration was become general. All 

10 the western bands of the Dahcotah were bent on war ; and, 
as I heard from McCluskey, six large villages were already 
gathered on a little stream, forty miles distant, and were 
daily calling to the Great Spirit to aid them in their enter- 
prise. McCluskey had just left them, and represented them 

15 as on their way to La Bonte's camp, which they would 
reach in a week, Knless they should learn that there were no 
buffalo there. I did not like this condition, for buffalo this 
season were rare in the neighborhood. There were also the 
two Minnicongew villages that I mentioned before ; but 

20 about noon, an Indian came from Richard's Fort with the 
news that they were quarrelling, breaking up, and dispersing. 
So much for the whiskey of the emigrants ! Finding them- 
selves unable to drink the whole, they had sold the residue 
to these Indians, and it needed no prophet to foretell the 

25 result ; a spark dropped into a powder-magazine would not 
have produced a quicker effect. Instantly the old jealousies 
and rivalries and smothered feuds that exist in an Indian 
village broke out into furious quarrels. They forgot the war- 
like enterprise that had already brought them three hundred 

30 miles. They seemed like ungoverned children inflamed 
with the fiercest passions of men. Several of them were 
stabbed in the drunken tumult ; and in the morning they 
scattered and moved back towards the Missouri in small 
parties. I feared that, after all, the long-projected meeting 
and the ceremonies that were to attend it might never take 



THE WAR-PARTTES 119 

place, and I should lose so admirable an opportunity of see- 
ing the Indian under his most fearful and characteristic 
aspect; however, in foregoing this, I should avoid a very 
fair probability of being plundered and stripped, and it 
might be, stabbed or shot into the bargain. Consoling my- 5 
self with this reflection, I prepared to carry the news, such 
as it was, to the camp. 

I caught my horse, and to my vexation found that he had 
lost a shoe and broken his hoof against the rocks. Horses 
are shod at Fort Laramie at the moderate rate of three dol- lo 
lars a foot ; so I tied Hendrick to a beam in the corral, and 
summoned Eoubidou, the blacksmith. Eoubidou, with the 
hoof between his knees, was at work with hammer and file, 
and I was inspecting the process, when a strange voice ad- 
dressed me. 15 

" Two more gone under ! Well, there 's more of us left yet. 
Here 's Gingras and me off to the mountains to-morrow. Our 
turn will come next, I suppose. It 's a hard life, anyhow ! " 

I looked up and saw a man, not much more than five feet 
high, but of very square and strong proportions. In appear- 20 
ance he was particularly dingy ; for his old buckskin frock 
was black and polished with time and grease, and his belt, 
knife, pouch, and powder-horn appeared to have seen the 
roughest service. The first joint of each foot was entirely 
gone, having been frozen off several winters before, and his 25 
moccasons were curtailed in proportion. His whole appear- 
ance and equipment bespoke the '' free trapper." He had a 
round, ruddy face, animated with a spirit of carelessness 
and gayety not at all in accordance with the words he had 
just spoken. .30 

'' * Two more gone,' " said I ; '' what do you mean by that ? " 

" Oh, the Arapahoes have just killed two of us in the 
mountains. Old Bull-Tail has come to tell us. They stabbed 
one behind his back, and shot the other with his own rifle. 
That 's the way we live here ! I mean to give up trapping- 



120 THE OREGON TRAIL 

after this year. My squaw says she wants a pacing horse 
and some red ribbons : I '11 make enough beaver to get them 
for her, and then I 'm done ! I '11 go below and live on a farm." 

" Your bones will dry on the prairie, Rouleau ! " said 
5 another trapper, who was standing by ; a strong, brutal- 
looking fellow, with a face as surly as a bull-dog's. 

Rouleau only laughed, and began to hum a tune and 
shuffle a dance on his stumps of feet. 

" You '11 see us, before long, passing up your way," said 
10 the other man. 

'' Well," said I, " stop and take a cup of coffee with us ; " 
and, as it was late in the afternoon, I prepared to leave the 
fort at once. 

As I rode out, a train of emigrant wagons was passing 
15 across the stream. " Whar are ye goin', stranger ? " Thus 
I was saluted by two or three voices at once. 

" About eighteen miles up the creek." 

" It 's mighty late to be going that far ! Make haste, ye 'd 

better, and keep a bright look-out for Indians ! " 

20 I thought the advice too good to be neglected. Fording 

the stream, I passed at a round trot over the plains beyond. 

But " the more haste, the worse speed." I proved the truth 

of the proverb by the time I reached the hills three miles 

from the fort. The trail was faintly marked, and, riding 

25 forward with more rapidity than caution, I lost sight of it. 

I kept on in a direct line, guided by Laramie Creek, which 

I could see at intervals darkly glistening in the evening sun, 

at the bottom of the woody gulf on my right. Half an hour 

before sunset I came upon its banks. There was something 

30 exciting in the wild solitude of the place. An antelope 

sprang suddenly from the sage-bushes before me. As he 

leaped gracefully not thirty yards before my horse, I fired, 

and instantly he spun round and fell. Quite sure of him, I 

walked my horse towards him, leisurely reloading my rifle, 

■when, to my surprise, he sprang up and trotted rapidly 



THE WAR-PARTIES 121 

away on three legs into the dark recesses of the hills, whither 
I had no time to follow. Ten minutes after, I was passing 
along the bottom of a deep valley, and, chancing to look 
behind me, I saw in the dim light that something was follow- 
ing. Supposing it to be a wolf, I slid from my seat and sat 5 
down behind my horse to shoot it ; but as it came up, I saw 
by its motions that it was another antelope. It approached 
within a hundred yards, arched its neck, and gazed intently. 
I levelled at the white spot on its chest, and was about to 
fire, when it started off, ran first to one side and then to the 10 
other, like a vessel tacking against the wind, and at last 
stretched away at full speed. Then it stopped again, looked 
curiously behind it, and trotted up as before; but not so 
boldly, for it soon paused and stood gazing at me. I fired ; 
it leaped upward and fell upon its tracks. Measuring the 15 
distance, I found it two hundred and four paces. When I 
stood by his side, the antelope turned his expiring eye up- 
ward. It was like a beautiful woman's, dark and bright. 
" Fortunate that I am in a hurry," thought I ; " I might be 
troubled with remorse, if I had time for it." 20 

Cutting the animal up, not in the most skilful manner, I 
hung the meat at the back of my saddle, and rode on again. 
The hills (I could not remember one of them) closed around 
me. " It is too late," thought I, " to go forward. I will stay 
here to-night, and look for the path in the morning." As a 25 
last effort, however, I ascended a high hill, from which, to 
my great satisfaction, I could see Laramie Creek stretching 
before me, twisting from side to side amid ragged patches 
of timber; and far off, close beneath the shadows of the 
trees, the ruins of the old trading-fort were visible. I reached 30 
them at twilight. It was far from pleasant, in that uncertain 
light, to be pushing through the dense trees and bushes of 
the grove beyond. I listened anxiously for the footfall of 
man or beast. Nothing was stirring but one harmless brown 
bird, chirping among the branches. I was glad when I gained 



122 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the open prairie once more, where I could see if anything 
approached. When I came to the mouth of Chugwater, it 
was totally dark. Slackening the reins, I let my horse take 
his own course. He trotted on with unerring instinct, and 
5 by nine o'clock was scrambling down the steep descent into 
the meadows where we were encamped. While I was look- 
ing in vain for the light of the fire, Hendrick, with keener 
perceptions, gave a loud neigh, which was immediately 
answered by another neigh from the distance. In a moment 

10 I was hailed from the darkness by the voice of Reynal, who 
had come out, rifle in hand, to see who was approaching. 

He, with his squaw, the two Canadians, and the Indian 
boys, were the sole inmates of the camp, Shaw and Henry 
Chatillon being still absent. At noon of the following day 

15 they came back, their horses looking none the better for the 
journey. Henry seemed dejected. The woman was dead, 
and his children must henceforward be exposed, without a 
protector, to the hardships and vicissitudes of Indian life. 
Even in the midst of his grief he had not forgotten his 

20 attachment to his bourgeois, for he had procured among his 
Indian relatives two beautifully ornamented buffalo-robes, 
which he spread on the ground as a present to us. 

Shaw lighted his pipe, and told me in a few words the 
history of his journey. When I went to the fort they left 

25 me, as I mentioned, at the mouth of Chugwater. They fol- 
lowed the course of the little stream all day, traversing a 
desolate and barren country. Several times they came upon 
the fresh traces of a large war-party, the same, no doubt, 
from whom we had so narrowly escaped an attack. At an 

30 hour before sunset, without encountering a human being by 
the way, they came upon the lodges of the squaw and her 
brothers, who, in compliance with Henry's message, had left 
the Indian village, in order to join us at our camp. The 
lodges were already pitched, five in number, by the side of 
the stream. The woman lay in one of them, reduced to a 



THE WAR-PARTIES 123 

mere skeleton. For some time she had been unable to move 
or speak. Indeed, nothing had kept her alive but the hope 
of seeing Henry, to whom she was strongly and faithfully 
attached. No sooner did he enter the lodge than she revived, 
and conversed with him the greater part of the night. Earlj^ 5 
in the morning she was lifted into a tmineau, and the whole 
party set out towards our camp. There were but five war- 
riors ; the rest were women and children. The whole were 
in great alarm at the proximity of the Crow war-party, who 
would certainly have killed them without mercy had they lo 
met. They had advanced only a mile or two, when they dis- 
cerned a horseman, far off, on the edge of the horizon. They 
all stopped, gathering together in the greatest anxiety, from 
which they did not recover until long after the horseman 
disappeared ; then they set out again. Henry was riding 15 
with Shaw a few rods in advance of the Indians, when 
Mahto-Tatonka, a younger brother of the woman, hastily 
called after them. Turning back, they found all the Indians 
crowded around the traineau in which the woman was lying. 
They reached her just in time to hear the death-rattle in her 20 
throat. In a moment she lay dead in the basket of the 
vehicle. A complete stillness succeeded; then the Indians 
raised in concert their cries of lamentation over the corpse, 
and among them Shaw clearly distinguished those strange 
sounds resembling the word " Halleluyah," which, together 25 
with some other accidental coincidences, has given rise to 
the absurd notion that the Indians are descended from the 
ten lost tribes of Israel. 

The Indian usage required that Henr}-, as well as the 
other relatives of the woman, should make valuable presents, 30 
to be placed by the side of the body at its last resting-place. 
Leaving the Indians, he and Shaw set out for the camp, 
and reached it, as we have seen, by hard pushing, at about 
noon. Having obtained the necessary articles, they imme- 
diately returned. It was very late and quite dark when they 



124 THE OREGON TRAIL 

again reached the lodges. They were all placed in a deep 
hollow among dreary hills. Four of them were just visible 
through the gloom, but the fifth and largest was illumined 
by the blaze of a fire within, glowing through the half- 
5 transparent covering of raw hides. There was a perfect 
stillness as they approached. The lodges seemed without a 
tenant. Not a living thing was stirring; there was some- 
thing awful in the scene. They rode up to the entrance of 
the lodge, and there was no sound but the tramp of their 

10 horses. A squaw came out and took charge of the animals, 
without speaking a word. Entering, they found the lodge 
crowded with Indians ; a fire was burning in the midst, and 
the mourners encircled it in a triple row. Room was made 
for the new-comers at the head of the lodge, a robe spread 

15 for them to sit upon, and a pipe lighted and handed to them 
in perfect silence. Thus they passed the greater part of the 
night. At times the fire would subside into a heap of em- 
bers, until the dark figures seated around it were scarcely 
visible ; then a squaw would drop upon it a piece of buffalo- 

20 fat, and a bright flame, instantly springing up, would reveal 
the crowd of wild faces, motionless as bronze. The silence 
continued unbroken. It was a relief to Shaw when daylight 
returned and he could escape from this house of mourning. 
He and Henry prepared to return homeward ; first, how- 

25 ever, they placed the presents they had brought near the 
body of the squaw, which, gaudily attired, remained in a 
sitting posture in one of the lodges. A fine horse was pick- 
eted not far off, destined to be killed that morning for the 
service of her spirit ; for the woman was lame, and could 

.30 not travel on foot over the dismal prairies to the villages of 
the dead. Eood, too, was provided, and household imple- 
ments, for her use upon this last journey. 

Henry left her to the care of her relatives, and came 
immediately with Shaw to the camp. It was some time 
before he entirely recovered from his dejection. 



CHAPTER XI 
SCENES AT THE CAMP 

Reynal heard guns fired one day, at the distance of a 
mile or two from the camp. He grew nervous instantly. 
Visions of Crow war-parties began to haunt his imagination ; 
and when we returned ( for we were all absent ), he renewed 
his complaints about being left alone with the Canadians 5 
and the squaw. The day after, the cause of the alarm 
appeared. Four trappers, called Morin, Saraphin, Rou- 
leau, and Gingras came to our camp and joined us. They 
it was who fired the guns and disturbed the dreams of our 
confederate Reynal. They soon encamped by our side. 10 
Their rifles, dingy and battered with hard service, rested 
with ours against the old tree ; their strong rude saddles, 
their buffalo-robes, their traps, and the few rough and simple 
articles of their travelling equipment were piled near our 
tent. Their mountain-horses were turned to graze in the 15 
meadow among our own ; and the men themselves, no less 
rough and hardy, used to lie half the day in the shade of 
our tree, lolling on the grass, lazily smoking, and telling 
stories of their adventures ; and I defy the annals of chiv- 
alry to furnish the record of a life more wild and perilous 20 
than that of a Rocky Mountain trapper. 

With this efficient reinforcement the agitation of Reynal's 
nerves subsided. We began to conceive a sort of attachment 
to our old camping-ground ; yet it was time to change our 
quarters, since remaining too long on one spot must lead to 25 
unpleasant results, not to be borne unless in case of dire 
necessity. The grass no longer presented a smooth surface 
of turf ; it was trampled into mud and clay. So we removed 

125 



126 THE OREGON TRAIL 

to another old tree, larger yet, that grew by the side of the 
river a furlong distant. Its trunk was full six feet in di- 
ameter; on one side it was marked by a party of Indians 
with various inexplicable hieroglyphics, commemorating 

5 some warlike enterprise, and aloft among the branches were 
the remains of a scaffold, where dead bodies had once been 
deposited, after the Indian manner. 

" There comes Bull-Bear," said Henry Chatillon, as we 
sat on the grass at dinner. Looking up, we saw several 

10 horsemen coming over the neighboring hill, and in a moment 
four stately young men rode up and dismounted. One of 
them was Bull-Bear, or Mahto-Tatonka, a compound name 
which he inherited from his father, the principal chief in the 
Ogillallah band. One of his brothers and two other young 

15 men accompanied him. We shook hands with the visitors, 
and when we had finished our meal — for this is the ap- 
proved manner of entertaining Indians, even the best of 
them — we handed to each a tin cup of coffee and a bis- 
cuit, at which they ejaculated from the bottom of their 

20 throats, '' How ! how ! " a monosyllable by which an Indian 
contrives to express half the emotions of which he is sus- 
ceptible. Then we lighted the pipe, and passed it to them 
as they squatted on the ground. 
'' Where is the village ? " 

25 " There," said Mahto-Tatonka, pointing southward ; " it 
will come in two days." 

" Will they go to the war ? " 

"Yes." 

No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. We welcomed 

30 this news cordially, and congratulated ourselves that Bor- 
deaux's interested efforts to divert The W^hirlwind from 
his congenial vocation of bloodshed had failed of success, 
and that no further obstacles would interpose between us 
and our plan of repairing to the rendezvous at La Bonte's 
camp. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 127 

For that and several succeeding days, Malito-Tatonka and 
his friends remained our guests. They devoured the relics 
of our meals ; they filled the pipe for us, and also helped us 
to smoke it. Sometimes they stretched 'themselves side by 
side in the shade, indulging in raillery and equivocal jokes, 5 
ill becoming the dignity of brave and aspiring warriors, such 
as two of them in reality were. 

Two days dragged away, and on the morning of the third 
we hoped confidently to see the Indian village. It did not 
come ; so we rode out to look for it. In place of the eight lo 
hundred Indians we expected, we met one solitary savage 
riding towards us over the prairie, who told us that the 
Indians had changed their plan, and would not come within 
three days. Taking along with us this messenger of evil 
tidings, we retraced our footsteps to the camp, amusing 15 
ourselves by the way with execrating Indian inconstancy. 
When we came in sight of our little white tent under the 
big tree, we saw that it no longer stood alone. A huge old 
lodge w^as erected by its side, discolored by rain and storms, 
rotten with age, with the uncouth figures of horses and men 20 
and outstretched hands that were painted upon it wellnigh 
obliterated. The long poles which supported this squalid 
habitation thrust themselves rakishly out from its pointed 
top, and over its entrance were suspended a '' medicine-pipe " 
and various other implements of the magic art. While we 25 
were yet at a distance, we observed a greatly increased popu- 
lation of various colors and dimensions, swarming about our 
quiet encampment. Morin, the trapper, having been absent 
for a day or two, had returned, it seemed, bringing all his 
family with him. He had taken to himself a wife, for whom 30 
he had paid the established price of one horse. This looks 
cheap at first sight, but in truth the purchase of a squaw is 
a transaction which no man should enter into without mature 
deliberation, since it invoh-es not only the payment of the 
price, but the bui'den of feeding and supporting a rapacious 



128 THE OREGON TRAIL 

horde of the bride's relatives, who hold themselves entitled 
to feed upon the indiscreet white man. They gather about 
him like leeches, and drain him of all he has. 

Morin had not made an aristocratic match. His bride's 
5 relatives occupied but a contemptible position in Ogillallah 
society ; for among these democrats of the prairie, as among 
others more civilized, there are virtual distinctions of rank 
and place. Morin's partner was not the most beautiful of 
her sex, and he had the bad taste to array her in an old 

10 calico gown, bought from an emigrant woman, instead of the 
neat tunic of whitened deer-skin usually worn by the squaws. 
The moving spirit of the establishment was an old hag of 
eighty. Human imagination never conceived hobgoblin or 
witch more ugly than she. You could count all her ribs 

15 through the wrinkles of her leathery skin. Her withered 
face more resembled an old skull than the countenance of a 
living being, even to the hollow, darkened sockets, at the 
bottom of which glittered her little black eyes. Her arms 
had dwindled into nothing but whip-cord and wire. Her hair, 

20 half black, half gray, hung in total neglect nearly to the 
ground, and her sole garment consisted of the remnant of a 
discarded buffalo-robe tied round her waist with a string of 
hide. Yet the old squaw's meagre anatomy was wonderfully 
strong. She pitched the lodge, packed the horses, and did 

25 the hardest labor of the camp. From morning till night she 
bustled about the lodge, screaming like a screech-owl when 
anything displeased her. Her brother, a '' medicine-man," 
or magician, was equally gaunt and sinewy with herself. 
His mouth spread from ear to ear, and his appetite, as we 

30 had occasion to learn, was ravenous in proportion. The other 
inmates of the lodge were a young bride and bridegroom, 
the latter one of those idle, good-for-nothing fellows who 
infest an Indian village as well as more civilized communi- 
ties. He was fit neither for hunting nor war, as one might 
see from the stolid unmeaning expression of his face. The 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 129 

happy pair had just entered upon the honeymoon. They 
would stretch a buffalo-robe upon poles, to protect them from 
the rays of the sun, and spreading under it a couch of furs, 
would sit affectionately side by side for half the day, though 
I could not discover that much conversation passed between 5 
them. Probably they had nothing to say ; for an Indian's 
supply of topics for conversation is far from being copious. 
There were half a dozen children, too, playing and whooping 
about the camp, shooting birds with little bows and arrows, 
or making miniature lodges of sticks, as children of a differ- lo 
ent complexion build houses of blocks. 

A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. Par- 
ties of two, three, or more would ride up and silently seat 
themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at last, when 
about noon horsemen appeared in view on the summit of the 15 
neighboring ridge. Behind followed a wild procession, hurry- 
ing in haste and disorder down the hill and over the plain 
below ; horses, mules, and dogs ; heavily-burdened tra Ineaux, 
mounted warriors, squaws walking amid the throng, and a 
host of children. For a full half-hour they continued to 20 
pour down ; and keeping directly to the bend of the stream, 
within a furlong of us, they soon assembled there, a dark 
and confused throng, until, as if by magic, a hundred and 
fifty tall lodges sprang up. The lonely plain was transformed 
into the site of a swarming encampment. Countless horses 25 
were soon grazing over the meadows around us, and the 
prairie was animated by restless figures careering on horse- 
back, or sedately stalking in their long white robes. The 
Whirlwind was come at last. One question yet remained to 
be answered : " Will he go to the war in order that we, with 30 
so respectable an escort, may pass over to the somewhat 
perilous rendezvous at La Bonte's camp ? " 

This still remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision 
perplexed their councils. Indians cannot act in large bodies. 
Though their object be of the highest importance, they 



130 THE OREGON TRAIL 

cannot combine to attain it by a series of connected efforts. 
King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecmnseh, all felt this to their 
cost. The Ogillallah once had a war-chief who could con- 
trol them ; but he was dead, and now they were left to the 

5 sway of their own unsteady impulses. 

As this Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a 
prominent place in the rest of the story, perhaps it may not 
be amiss to glance for an instant at the savage people of 
which they form a part. The Dahcotah or Sioux range over 

10 a vast territory, from the river St. Peter to the Rocky 
Mountains. They are divided into several independent 
bands, united under no central government, and acknowl- 
edging no common head. The same language, usages, and 
superstitions form the sole bond between them. They do 

15 not unite even in their wars. The bands of the east fight 
the Ojibwas on the Upper Lakes ; those of the west make 
incessant war upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky Moun- 
tains. As the whole people is divided into bands, so each 
band is divided into villages. Each village has a chief, who 

20 is honored and obeyed only so far as his personal qualities 
may command respect and fear. Sometimes he is a mere 
nominal chief; sometimes his authority is little short of 
absolute, and his fame and influence reach beyond his 
own village, so that the whole band to which he belongs 

25 is ready to acknowledge him as their head. This was, a 
few years since, the case with the Ogillallah. Courage, ad- 
dress, and enterprise may raise any warrior to the highest 
honor, especially if he be the son of a former chief, or a 
member of a numerous family, to support him and avenge 

30 his quarrels; but when he has reached the dignity of 
chief, and the old men and warriors, by a peculiar cere- 
mony, have formally installed him, let it not be imagined 
that he assumes any of the outward signs of rank and honor. 
He knows too well on how frail a tenure he holds his station. 
He must conciliate his uncertain subjects. Many a man in 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 131 

the village lives better, owns more squaws and more horses, 
and goes better clad than he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of 
.old, he ingratiates himself with his young men by making 
them presents, thereby often impoverishing himself. If he 
fails to gain their favor, they will set his authority at naught, 5 
and may desert him at any moment ; for the usages of his 
people have provided no means of enforcing his authority. 
Very seldom does it happen, at least among these western 
bands, that a chief attains to much power, unless he is the 
head of a numerous family. Frequently the village is prin- 10 
cipally made up of his relatives and descendants, and the 
wandering community assumes much of the patriarchal 
character. 

The western Dahcotah have no fixed habitations. Hunting 
and fighting, they wander incessantly, through summer and 15 
winter. Some follow the herds of buffalo over the waste of 
prairie ; others traverse the Black Hills, thronging, on horse- 
back and on foot, through the dark gulfs and sombre gorges, 
and emerging at last upon the " Parks," those beautiful but 
most perilous hunting-grounds. The buffalo supplies them 20 
with the necessaries of life ; with habitations, food, clothing, 
beds, and fuel; strings for their bows, glue, thread, cor- 
dage, trail-ropes for their horses, coverings for their saddles, 
vessels to hold water, boats to cross streams, and the means 
of purchasing all that they want from the traders. When 25 
the buffalo are extinct, they too must dwindle away. 

War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most of the 
neighboring tribes they cherish a rancorous hatred, trans- 
mitted from father to son, and inflamed by constant aggres- 
sion and retaliation. Many times a year, in every village, 30 
the Great Spirit is called upon, fasts are made, the war- 
parade is celebrated, and the warriors go out by handfuls at 
a time against the enemy. This fierce spirit awakens their 
most eager aspirations, and calls forth their greatest ener- 
gies. It is chiefly this that saves them from lethargy and 



132 THE OREGON TRAIL 

utter abasement. Without its powerful stimulus they would 
be like the un warlike tribes beyond the mountains, scattered 
among the caves and rocks like beasts, and living on roots, 
and reptiles. These latter have little of humanity except 

5 the form ; but the proud and ambitious Dahcotah warrior 
can sometimes boast heroic virtues. It is seldom that dis- 
tinction and influence are attained among them by any 
other course than that of arms. Their superstition, how- 
ever, sometimes gives great power to those among them 

10 who pretend to the character of magicians ; and their 
orators, such as they are, have their share of honor. 

But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if you can 
bear the stifling smoke and the close air. There, wedged 
close together, you will see a circle of stout warriors, pass- 

15 ing the pipe around, joking, telling stories, and making 
themselves merry after their fashion. We were also in- 
fested by little copper-colored naked boys and snake-eyed 
girls. They would come up to us, muttering certain words, 
which being interpreted conveyed the concise invitation, 

20 " Come and eat." Then we would rise, cursing the perti- 
nacity of Dahcotah hospitality, which allowed scarcely an 
hour of rest between sun and sun, and to which we were 
bound to do honor, unless we would offend our entertainers. 
This necessity was particularly burdensome to me, as I was 

25 scarcely able to walk, from the effects of illness, and was 
poorly qualified to dispose of twenty meals a day. So boun- 
teous an entertainment looks like an outgushing of good- 
will ; but, doubtless, half at least of our kind hosts, had 
they met us alone and unarmed on the prairie, would have 

30 robbed us of our horses, and perhaps have bestowed an 
arrow upon us besides. 

One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an old 
man, the Nestor of his tribe. We found him half sitting, 
half reclining, on a pile of buffalo-robes ; his long hair, jet- 
black, though he had seen some eighty winters, hung on 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 133 

either side of his thin features. His gaunt but symmetrical 
frame did not more clearly exhibit the wreck of bygone 
strength, than did his dark, wasted features, still prominent 
and commanding, bear the stamp of mental energies. Oppo- 
site the patriarch was his nephew, the young aspirant Mahto- 5 
Tatonka ; and besides these, there were one or two women 
in the lodge. 

The old man's story is peculiar, and illustrative of a super- 
stition that prevails in full force among many of the Indian 
tribes. He was one of a powerful family, renowned for war- lo 
like exploits. When a very young man, he submitted to the 
singular rite to which most of the tribe subject themselves 
before entering upon life. He painted his face black ; then 
seeking out a cavern in a sequestered part of the Black 
Hills, he lay for several days, fasting, and praying to the 15 
spirits. In the dreams and visions produced by his weak- 
ened and excited state, he fancied, like all Indians, that he 
saw supernatural revelations. Again and again the form of 
an antelope appeared before him. The antelope is the grace- 
ful peace spirit of the Ogillallah ; but seldom is it that such 20 
a gentle visitor presents itself during the initiatory fasts of 
their young men. The terrible grizzly bear, the divinity of 
war, usually appears to fire them with martial ardor and 
thirst for renown. At length the antelope spoke. It told 
the young dreamer that he was not to follow the path of 25 
war; that a life of peace and tranquillity was marked out 
for him ; that thenceforward he was to guide the people by 
his counsels, and protect them from the evils of their own 
feuds and dissensions. Others were to gain renown by fight- 
ing the enemy ; but greatness of a different kind was in store 30 
for him. 

The visions beheld during the period of this fast usually 
determine the whole course of the dreamer's life. From that 
time, Le Borgne, which was the only name by which we 
knew him, abandoned all thoughts of war, and devoted 



134 THE OREGON TRAIL 

himself to the labors of peace. He told his vision to the 
people. They honored his commission and respected him in 
his novel capacity. 

A far different man was liis brother, Mahto-Tatonka, who 

5 had left his name, his features, and many of his qualities, to 
his son. He was the father of Henry Chatillon's squaw, a 
circumstance which proved of some advantage to us, as it 
secured the friendship of a family perhaps the most noted 
and influential in the whole Ogillallah band ; Mahto-Tatonka, 

10 in his way, was a hero. No chief could vie with him in war- 
like renown, or in power over his people. He had a fearless 
spirit, and an impetuous and inflexible resolution. His will 
was law. He was politic and sagacious, and with true Indian 
craft, always befriended the whites, knowing that he might 

15 thus reap great advantages for himself and his adherents. 
When he had resolved on any course of conduct, he would 
pay to the warriors the compliment of calling them together 
to deliberate upon it, and when their debates were over, 
quietly state his own opinion, which no one ever disputed. 

20 It fared hard with those who incurred his displeasure. He 
would strike them or stab them on the spot ; and this act, 
which, if attempted by any other chief would have cost him 
his life, the awe inspired by his name enabled him to repeat 
again and again with impunity. In a community where, 

25 from immemorial time, no man has acknowledged any law 
but his own will, Mahto-Tatonka raised himself to power 
little short of despotic. His career came at last to an end. 
He had a host of enemies patiently biding their time ; and 
our old friend Smoke in particular, together with all his 

30 kinsmen, hated him cordially. Smoke sat one day in his 
lodge, in the midst of his own village, when Mahto-Tatonka 
entered it alone, and approaching the dwelling of his enemy, 
challenged him in a loud voice to come out, and flght. Smoke 
would not move. At this,, Mahto-Tatonka proclaimed him 
a coward and an old woman, and, striding to the entrance 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 1B5 

of the lodge, stabbed the chiefs best horse, which was pick- 
eted there. Smoke was daunted, and even this insult failed 
to bring him out. Mahto-Tatonka moved haughtily away ; 
all made way for him ; but his hour of reckoning was near. 

One hot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges of 5 
Smoke's kinsmen were gathered about some of the Fur Com- 
pany's m^n, who were trading in various articles with them, 
whiskey among the rest. Mahto-Tatonka was also there with 
a few of his people. As he lay in his own lodge, a fray 
arose between his adherents and the kinsmen of his enemy. 10 
The war-whoop was raised, bullets and arrows began to fly, 
and the camp was in confusion. The chief sprang up, and 
rushing in a fury from the lodge, shouted to the combatants 
on both sides to cease. Instantly — for the attack was pre- 
concerted — came the reports of two or three guns, and the 15 
twanging of a dozen bows, and the savage hero, mortally 
wounded, pitched forward headlong to the ground. Rouleau 
was present, and told me the particulars. The tumult be- 
came general, and was not quelled until several had fallen 
on both sides. When we were in the country the feud be- 20 
tween the two families was still rankling. 

Thus died Mahto-Tatonka; but he left behind him a 
goodly army of descendants, to perpetuate his renown and 
avenge his fate. Besides daughters, he had thirty sons, a 
number which need not stagger the credulity of those ac- 25 
quainted with Indian usages and practices. We saw many 
of them, all marked by the same dark complexion, and the 
same peculiar cast of features. Of these, our visitor, young 
Mahto-Tatonka, was the eldest, and some reported him as 
likely to succeed to his father's honors. Though he appeared 30 
not more than twenty-one years old, he had oftener struck 
the enemy, and stolen more horses and more squaws, than 
any young man in the village. Horse-stealing is well known 
as an avenue to distinction on the prairies, and the other 
kind of depredation is esteemed equally meritorious, x^ot 



136 THE OREGON TRAIL 

that the act can confer fame from its own intrinsic merits. 
Any one can steal a squaw, and if he chooses afterwards to 
make an adequate present to her rightful proprietor, the easy 
husband for the most part rests content, his vengeance falls 

5 asleep, and all danger from that quarter is averted. Yet this 
is regarded as a pitiful and mean-spirited transaction. The 
danger is averted, but the glory of the achievement also is 
lost. Mahto-Tatonka proceeded after a more dashing fashion. 
Out of several dozen squaws whom he had stolen, he could 

10 boast that he had never paid for one, but snapping his 
fingers in the face of the injured husband, had defied the 
extremity of his indignation, and no one yet had dared to 
lay the finger of violence upon him. He was following close 
in the footsteps of his father. The young men and the 

15 young squaws, each in their way, admired him. The former 
would always follow him to war, and he was esteemed to 
have an unrivalled charm in the eyes of the latter. Perhaps 
his impunity may excite some wonder. An arrow-shot from 
a ravine, or a stab given in the dark, require no great valor, 

20 and are especially suited to the Indian genius ; but Mahto- 
Tatonka had a strong protection. It was not alone his cour- 
age and audacious will that enabled him to career so dashingly 
among his compeers. His enemies did not forget that he 
was one of thirty warlike brethren, all growing up to man- 

25 hood. Should they wreak their anger upon him, many keen 
eyes would be ever upon them, and many fierce hearts thirst 
for their blood. The avenger would dog their footsteps 
everywhere. To kill Mahto-Tatonka would be an act of 
suicide. 

30 Though he found such favor in the eyes of the fair, he 
was no dandy. He was indifferent to the gaudy trappings 
and ornaments of his companions, and was content to rest 
his chances of success upon his own warlike merits. He 
never arrayed himself in gaudy blanket and glittering neck- 
laces, but left his statue-like form, limbed like an Apollo 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 137 

of bronze, to win its way to favor. His voice was singularly 
deep and strong, and sounded from his chest like the deep 
notes of an organ. Yet, after all, he was but an Indian. See 
him as he lies there in the sun before our tent, kicking his 
heels in the air and cracking jokes with his brother. Does 5 
he look like a hero ? See him now in the hour of his glory, 
when at sunset the whole village empties itself to behold 
him, for to-morrow their favorite young partisan goes out 
against the enemy. His head-dress is adorned with a crest 
of the war-eagle's feathers, rising in a waving ridge above 10 
his brow, and sweeping far behind him. His round white 
shield hangs at his breast, with feathers radiating from the 
centre like a star. His quiver is at his back ; his tall lance 
in his hand, the iron point flashing against the declining 
sun, while the long scalp-locks of his enemies flutter from 15 
the shaft. Thus, gorgeous as a champion in panoply, he 
rides round and round within the great circle of lodges, bal- 
ancing with a graceful buoyancy to the free movements of 
his war-horse, while with a sedate brow he sings his song to 
the Great Spirit. Young rival warriors look askance at him ; 20 
vermilion-cheeked girls gaze in admiration ; boys whoop and 
scream in a thrill of delight, and old women yell forth his 
name and proclaim his praises from lodge to lodge. 

Mahto-Tatonka was the best of all our Indian friends. 
Hour after hour, and day after day, when swarms of savages 25 
of every age, sex, and degree beset our camp, he would lie 
in our tent, his lynx-eye ever open to guard our property 
from pillage. 

The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. The feast 
was finished, and the pipe began to circulate. It was a re- 30 
markably large and fine one, and I expressed admiration of it. 

" If the Meneaska likes the pipe," asked The Whirlwind, 
" why does he not keep it ? " 

Such a pipe among the Ogillallah is valued at the price 
of a horse. The gift seemed worthy of a chieftain and a 



138 THE OREGON TRAIL 

warrior ; but The Whirlwind's generosity rose to no such 
pitch. He gave me the pipe, confidently expecting that I in 
return would make him a present of equal or superior value. 
This is the implied condition of every gift among the In- 

5 dians, and should it not be complied with, the present is 
usually reclaimed. So I arranged upon a gaudy calico hand- 
kerchief, an assortment of vermilion, tobacco, knives, and 
gunpowder, and summoning the chief to camp, assured him 
of my friendship, and begged his acceptance of a slight 

10 token of it. Ejaculating, " How ! how ! " he folded up the 
offerings and withdrew to his lodge. 

Late one afternoon a party of Indians on horseback came 
suddenly in sight from behind some clumps of bushes that 
lined the bank of the stream, leading with them a mule, on 

15 whose back was a wretched negro, sustained in his seat by 
the high pommel and cantle of the Indian saddle. His cheeks 
were shrunken in the hollow of his jaws ; his eyes were un- 
naturally dilated, and his lips shrivelled and drawn back 
from his teeth like those of a corpse. When they brought 

20 him before our tent, and lifted him from the saddle, he could 
not walk or stand, but crawled a short distance, and with a 
look of utter misery sat down on the grass. All the children 
and women came pouring out of the lodges, and with screams 
and cries made a circle about him, while he sat supporting 

25 himself Avith his hands, and looking from side to side with 
a vacant stare. The wretch was starving to death. For 
thirty-three days he had wandered alone on the prairie, 
without weapon of any kind ; without shoes, moccasons, or 
any other clothing than an old jacket and trousers ; without 

30 intelligence to guide his course, or any knowledge of the 
productions of the prairie. All this time he had subsisted 
on crickets and lizards, wild onions, and three eggs which 
he found in the nest of a prairie-dove. He had not seen a 
human being. Bewildered in the boundless, hopeless desert 
that stretched around him, he had walked on in despair, till 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 139 

he could walk no longer, and then crawled on his knees, till 
the bone was laid bare. He chose the night for travelling, 
lying down by day to sleep in the glaring sun, always dream- 
ing, as he said, of the broth and corn-cake he used to eat 
under his old master's shed in Missouri. Every man in the 5 
camp, both white and red, was astonished at his escape not 
only from starvation, but from the grizzly bears, which 
abound in that neighborhood, and the wolves which howled 
around him every night. 

Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians brought lo 
him in. He had run away from his master about a jesiv 
before and joined the party of Richard, who was then leav- 
ing the frontier for the mountains. He had lived with 
Richard until, at the end of May, he with Reynal and 
several other men went out in search of some stray horses, 15 
when he was separated from the rest in a storm, and had 
never been heard of to this time. Knowing his inexperience 
and helplessness, no one dreamed that he could still be living. 
The Indians had found him lying exhausted on the ground. 

As he sat there, with the Indians gazing silently on him, 20 
his haggard face and glazed eye were disgusting to look 
upon. Deslauriers made him a bowl of gruel, but he suffered 
it to remain untasted before him. At length he languidly 
raised the spoon to his lips ; again he did so, and again ; 
and then his appetite seemed suddenly inflamed into mad- 25 
ness, for he seized the bowl, swallowed all its contents in a 
few seconds, and eagerly demanded meat. This we refused, 
telling him to wait until morning ; but he begged so eagerly 
that we gave him a small piece, which he devoured, tearing 
it like a dog. He said he must have more. We told him 30 
that his life was in danger if he ate so immoderately at first. 
He assented, and said he knew he was a fool to do so, but 
he must have meat. This we absolutely refused, to the great 
indignation of the senseless squaws, who, when we were not 
watching him, would slyly bring dried meat and powmes 



140 THE OREGON TRAIL 

blanches, and place them on the ground by his side. Still 
this was not enough for him. When it grew dark he con- 
trived to creep away between the legs of the horses and 
crawl over to the Indian camp. Here he fed to his heart's 

5 content, and was brought back again in the morning, when 
Gingras, the trapper, put him on horseback and carried him 
to the fort. He managed to survive the effects of his 
greediness. Though slightly deranged when we left this 
part of the country, he was otherwise in tolerable health, 

10 and expressed his firm conviction that nothing could ever 
kill him. 

When the sun was yet an hour high, it was a gay scene 
in the village. The warriors stalked sedately among the 
lodges, or along the margin of the stream, or walked out to 

15 visit the bands of horses that were feeding over the prairie. 
Half the population deserted the close and heated lodges and 
betook themselves to the water ; and here you might see 
boys and girls, and young squaws, splashing, swimming, and 
diving, beneath the afternoon sun, with merry screams and 

20 laughter. But when the sun was resting above the broken 
peaks, and the purple mountains threw their shadows for 
miles over the prairie ; when our old tree basked peacefully 
in the horizontal rays, and the swelling x^lains and scattered 
groves were softened into a tranquil beauty, — then the 

25 scene around our tent was worthy of a Salvator. Savage 
figures, with quivers at their backs, and guns, lances, or 
tomahawks in their hands, sat on horseback, motionless as 
statues, their arms crossed on their breasts and their eyes 
fixed in a steady unwavering gaze upon us. Others stood 

30 erect, wrapped from head to foot in their long white robes 
of buffalo-hide. Others sat together on the grass, holding 
their shaggy horses by a rope, with their dark busts exposed 
to view as they suffered their robes to fall from their shoul- 
ders. Others again stood carelessly among the throng, with 
nothing to conceal the matchless symmetry of their forms. 



SCENES AT THE CAMP 141 

There was one in particular, a ferocious fellow, named The 
Mad Wolf, who, with the bow in his hand and the quiver at 
his back, might have seemed, but for his face, the Pythian 
Apollo himself. Such a figure rose before the imagination 
of West, when, on first seeing the Belvedere in the Vatican, 5 
he exclaimed, " By God, a Mohawk ! " 

When the prairie grew dark, the horses were driven in 
and secured near the camp, and the crowd began to melt 
away. Fires gleamed around, duskily revealing the rough 
trappers and the graceful Indians. One of the families near lo 
us was always gathered about a bright fire that lighted up 
the interior of their lodge. Withered, witch-like hags flitted 
around the blaze ; and here for hour after hour sat a circle 
of children and young girls, laughing and talking, their 
round merry faces glowing in the ruddy light. We could 15 
hear the monotonous notes of the drum from the Indian 
camp, with the chant of the war-song, deadened in the dis- 
tance, and the long chorus of quavering yells, where the 
war-dance was going on in the largest lodge. For several 
nights, too, we heard wild and mournful cries, rising and 20 
dying away like the melancholy voice of a wolf. They came 
from the sisters and female relatives of Mahto-Tatonka, who 
were gashing their limbs with knives, and bewailing the 
death of Henry Chatillon's squaw. The hour would grow 
late before all went to rest in our camp. Then, while the 25 
embers of the fires glowed dimly, the men lay stretched in 
their blankets on the ground, and nothing could be heard 
but the restless motions of the crowded horses. 

I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleasure and 
pain. At this time, I was so reduced by illness that I could 30 
seldom walk without reeling like a drunken man, and when 
I rose from my seat upon the ground, the landscape sud- 
denly grew dim before my eyes, the trees and lodges seemed 
to sway to and fro, and the prairie to rise and fall like the 
swells of the ocean. Such a state of things is not enviable 



142 THE OREGON TRAIL 

anywhere. In a country where a man's life may at any 
moment depend on the strength of his arm, or it may be on 
the activity of his legs, it is more particularly inconvenient. 
Nor is sleeping on damp ground, with an occasional drenching 
5 from a shower, very beneficial in such cases. I sometimes 
suffered the extremity of exhaustion, and was in a tolerably 
fair way of atoning for my love of the prairie by resting 
there forever. 

I tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long time, 

10 with exemplary patience, I lounged about the camp, or at 
the utmost staggered over to the Indian village, and walked 
faint and dizzy among the lodges. It would not do ; and I 
bethought me of starvation. During five days I sustained 
life on one small biscuit a day. At the end of that time I 

15 was weaker than before, but the disorder seemed shaken in 
its stronghold, and very gradually I began to resume a less 
rigid diet. 

I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent, musing 
on the past and the future, and when most overcome with 

20 lassitude, my eyes turned always towards the distant Black 
Hills. There is a spirit of energy in mountains, and they 
impart it to all who approach them. At that time I did not 
know how many dark superstitions and gloomy legends are 
associated with the Black Hills in the minds of the Indians, 

25 but I felt an eager desire to penetrate their hidden recesses, 
and explore the chasms and precipices, black torrents and 
silent forests, that I fancied were concealed there. 



CHAPTER XII 
ILL-LUCK 

A Canadian came from Fort Laramie, and brought a curi- 
ous piece of intelligence. A trapper, fresh from the moun- 
tains, had become enamoured of a Missouri damsel belonging 
to a family who with other emigrants had been for some 
days encamped in the neighborhood of the fort. If bravery 5 
be the most potent charm to win the favor of the fair, then 
no wooer could be more irresistible than a Rocky Mountain 
trapper. In the present instance, the suit was not urged in 
vain. The lovers concerted a scheme, which they proceeded 
to carry into effect with all possible despatch. The emigrant 10 
party left the fort, and on the next night but one en- 
camped as usual, and placed a guard. A little after mid- 
night, the enamoured trapper drew near, mounted on a 
strong horse, and leading another by the bridle. Fastening 
both animals to a tree, he stealthily moved towards the 15 
wagons, as if he were ai)proaching a band of buffalo. Elud- 
ing the vigilance of the guard, who were probably half 
asleep, he met his mistress by appointment at the outskirts 
of the camp, mounted her on his spare horse, and made off 
with her through the darkness. The sequel of the adventure 20 
did not reach our ears, and we never learned how the impru- 
dent fair one liked an Indian lodge for a dwelling, and a 
reckless trapper for a bridegroom. 

At length The Whirlwind and his warriors determined to 
move. They had resolved after all their preparations not to 25 
go to the rendezvous at La Route's camp, but to pass through 
the Black Hills and spend a few weeks in hunting the 
buffalo on the other side, until they had killed enough to 

143 



144 THE OREGON TRAIL 

furnish them with a stock of provisions and with hides to 
make their lodges for the next season. This done, they were 
to send out a small independent war-party against the enemy. 
Their final determination placed us in some embarrassments 
5 Should we go to La Bonte's camp, it was not impossible that 
the other villages would prove as vacillating as The Whirl- 
wind's, and that no assembly whatever would take place. 
Our old companion E-eynal had conceived a liking for us, or 
rather for our biscuit and coffee, and for the occasional small 

10 presents which we made him. He was very anxious that we 
should go with the village which he himself intended to 
follow. He was certain that no Indians would meet at the 
rendezvous, and said, moreover, that it would be easy to con- 
vey our cart and baggage through the Black Hills. He 

15 knew, however, nothing of the matter. Neither he nor any 
white man with us had ever seen the difficult and obscure 
defiles through which the Indians intended to make their 
way. I passed them afterwards, and had much ado to force 
my distressed horse along the narrow ravines, and through 

20 chasms where daylight could scarcely penetrate. Our cart 
might as easily have been driven over the summit of Pike's 
Peak. But of this we were ignorant ; and in view of the 
difficulties and uncertainties of an attempt to visit the ren- 
dezvous, we recalled the old proverb, about " A bird in the 

25 hand," and decided to follow the village. 

Both camps, the Indians' and our own, broke up on the 
morning of the first of July. I was so weak that the aid of 
a spoonful of whiskey, swallowed at short intervals, alone 
enabled lye to sit my horse through the short journey of that 

30 day. For half a mile before us and half a mile behind, the 
prairie was- covered far and wide with the moving throng of 
savages. The barren, broken plain stretched away to the 
right and left, and far in front rose the precipitous ridge of 
the Black Hills. We pushed forward to the head of the 
scattered column, passing burdened traineauxj heavily laden 



ILL-LUCK 145 

pack-horses, gaunt old women on foot, gay young squaws on 
horseback, restless children running among the crowd, old 
men striding along in their white buffalo-robes, and groups 
of young warriors mounted on their best horses. Henry 
Chatillon, looking backward over the distant prairie, ex- 5 
claimed suddenly that a horseman was approaching, and in 
truth we could just discern a small black speck slowly mov- 
ing over the face of a distant swell, like a fly creeping on a 
Avail. It rapidly grew larger as it approached. 

" White man, I b'lieve," said Henry ; " look how he ride. 10 
Indian never ride that way. Yes ; he got rifle on the saddle 
before him." 

The horseman disappeared in a hollow of the prairie, but 
we soon saw him again, and as he came riding at a gallo]3 
towards us through the crowd of Indians, his long hair 15 
streaming in the wind behind him, we recognized the ruddy 
face and old buckskin frock of Gingras the trapper. He was 
just arrived from Fort Laramie, and said he had a message 
for us. A trader named Bisonette, one of Henry's friends, 
had lately come from the settlements, and intended to go 20 
with a party of men to La Bonte's camp, where, as Gingras 
assured us, ten or twelve villages of Indians would certainly 
assemble. Bisonette desired that we would cross over and 
meet him there, and promised that his men should protect 
our horses and baggage while we went among the Indians. 25 
Shaw and I stopped our horses, held a council, and in an 
evil hour resolved to go. 

For the rest of that day our course and that of the Indians 
was the same. In less than an hour we came to where the 
high barren prairie terminated, sinking down abruptly in 30 
steep descent ; and standing on the verge, we saw below us 
a great meadow. Laramie Creek bounded it on the left, 
sweeping along in the shadow of the heights, and passing 
with its shallow and rapid current just beneath us. We sat 
on horseback, waiting and looking on, while the whole 



146 THE OREGON TRAIL 

savage array went pouring by, hurrying down the declivity 
and spreading over the meadow below. In a few moments 
the plain was swarming with the moving multitude, some 
just visible, like specks in the distance, others still hasten- 
5 ing by and fording the stream in bustle and confusion. On 
the edge of the heights sat a group of the elder warriors, 
gravely smoking and looking with unmoved faces on the 
wild and striking spectacle. 

Up went the lodges in a circle on the margin of the 

10 stream. Tor the sake of quiet we pitched our tent among 
some trees half a mile distant. In the afternoon we were 
in the village. The day was a glorious one, and the whole 
camp seemed lively and animated in sympathy. Groups of 
children and young girls were laughing gayly outside the 

15 lodges. The shields, the lances, and the bows were removed 
from the tall tripods on which they usually hung, before the 
dwellings of their owners. The warriors were mounting 
their horses, and one by one riding away over the prairie 
towards the neighboring hills. 

20 Shaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of Reynal. 
An old woman, with true Indian hospitality, brought a bowl 
of boiled venison and placed it before us. We amused our- 
selves with watching a few young squaws who were playing 
together and chasing each other in and out of one of the 

25 lodges. Suddenly the wild yell of the war-whoop came peal- 
ing from the hills. A crowd of horsemen appeared, rushing 
down their sides, and riding at full speed towards the village, 
each warrior's long hair flying behind him in the wind like 
a ship's streamer. As they approached, the confused throng 

30 assumed a regular order, and entering two by two, they 
circled round the area at full gallop, each warrior singing 
his war-song as he rode. Some of their dresses were superb. 
They wore crests of feathers, and close tunics of antelope 
skins, fringed with the scalp-locks of their enemies ; many 
of their shields, too, fluttered with the war-eagle's feathers. 



ILL-LUCK 147 

All had bows and arrows at their backs ; some carried long- 
lances, and a few were armed with guns. The White Shield, 
their partisan, rode in gorgeous attire at their head, mounted 
on a black-and-white horse. Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers 
took no part in this parade, for they were in mourning for 5 
their sister, and were all sitting in their lodges, their bodies 
bedaubed from head to foot with white clay, and a lock of 
hair cut from the forehead of each. 

The warriors rode three times round the village ; and as 
each noted champion passed, the old women would scream 10 
out his name, to honor his bravery, and excite the emulation 
of the younger warriors. Little urchins, not two years old, 
followed the warlike pageant with glittering eyes, and gazed 
with eager admiration at the heroes of their tribe. 

The procession rode out of the village as it had entered 15 
it, and in half an hour all the warriors had returned again, 
dropping quietly in, singly or in parties of two or three. 

The parade over, we were entertained with an episode of 
Indian domestic life. A vicious-looking squaw, beside her- 
self with rage, was berating her spouse, who, with a look of 20 
total unconcern, sat cross-legged in the middle of his lodge, 
smoking his pipe in silence. At length, maddened by his 
coolness, she made a' rush at the lodge, seized the poles 
which supported it, and tugged at them, one after the other, 
till she brought down the whole structure, poles, hides, and 25 
all, clattering on his head, burying him in the wreck of his 
habitation. He pushed aside the hides with his hand, and 
presently his head emerged, like a turtle's from its shell. 
Still he sat smoking sedately as before, a wicked glitter 
in his eyes alone betraying the pent-up storm within. The 30 
squaw, scolding all the while, proceeded to saddle her horse, 
bestride him, and canter out of the camp, intending, as it 
seemed, to return to her father's lodge, wherever that might 
be. The warrior, who had not deigned even to look at her, 
now coolly arose, disengaged himself from the ruins, tied a 



148 THE OREGON TRAIL 

cord of hair by way of bridle round the jaw of his buffalo- 
horse, broke a stout cudgel, about four feet long, from the 
butt-end of a lodge-pole, mounted, and galloped majestically 
over the iDrairie to discipline his offending helpmeet. 

5 As the sun rose next morning we looked across the 
meadow, and could see the lodges levelled and the Indians 
gathering together in preparation to leave the camp. Their 
course lay to the westward. We turned towards the north 
with our three men, the four trappers following us, with the 

10 Indian family of Morin. We travelled until night, and en- 
camped among some trees by the side of a little brook, where 
during the whole of the next day we lay waiting for Biso- 
nette ; but no Bisonette appeared. Here two of our trapper 
friends left us, and set out for the Rocky Mountains. On the 

15 second morning, despairing of Bisonette's arrival, we resumed 
our journey, traversing a forlorn and dreary monotony of sun- 
scorched plains, where no living thing appeared save here and 
there an antelope flying before us like the wind. When noon 
came we saw an unwonted and welcome sight ; a fine growth 

20 of trees, marking the course of a little stream called Horse- 
shoe Creek. They stood wide asunder, spreading a thick canopy 
of leaves above a surface of rich, tall grass. The stream ran 
swiftl}^, as clear as crystal, through the bosom of the wood, 
sparkling over its bed of white sand, and darkening again as 

25 it entered a deep cavern of foliage. I was thoroughly ex- 
hausted, and flung myself on the ground, scarcely able to move. 
In the morning, as glorious a sun rose upon us as ever 
animated that wilderness. We advanced, and soon were sur- 
rounded by tall bare hills, overspread from top to bottom 

30 with prickly-pears and other cacti, that seemed like clinging 
reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, with scarcely the vestige of 
grass, lay before us, and a line of tall misshapen trees 
bounded the onward view. There was no sight or sound of 
man or beast, or any living thing, although behind those 
trees was the long-looked-for place of rendezvous, where we 



ILL-LUCK 149 

hoped to have found the Indians congregated by thousands. 
We looked and listened anxiously. We pushed forward with 
our best speed, and forced our horses through the trees. There 
were copses of some extent beyond, with a scanty stream 
creeping among them ; and as we pressed through the yielding 5 
branches, deer sprang up to the right and left. At length we 
caught a glimpse of the prairie beyond, emerged upon it, and 
saw, not a plain covered with encampments and "swarming 
with life, but a vast unbroken desert stretching away before 
us league upon league, without bush or tree, or anything that lo 
had life. We drew rein and gave to the winds our sentiments 
concerning the whole aboriginal race of America. Our journey 
was worse than vain. For myself, I was vexed be^'ond measure ; 
as I well knew that a slight aggravation of my disorder would 
render this false step irrevocable, and make it impossible to 15 
accomplish effectually the object which had led me an ardu- 
ous journe}^ of between three and four thousand miles. 

And where were the Indians ? They were mustered in 
great numbers at a spot about twenty miles distant, where at 
that very moment they were dancing their war dances. The 20 
scarcity of buffalo in the vicinity of La Bonte's camp, which 
would render their supply of provisions scanty and precarious, 
had probably prevented them from assembling there ; but 
of all this we knew nothing until some weeks after. 

Shaw lashed his horse and galloped forward. I, though 25 
much more vexed than he, was not strong enough to adopt 
this convenient vent to my feelings ; so I followed at a quiet 
pace. We rode up to a solitary old tree, which seemed the 
only place fit for encampment. Half its branches were dead, 
and the rest were so scantily furnished with leaves that 30 
they cast but a meagre and wretched shade. We threw down 
our saddles in the strip of shadow cast by the old twisted 
trunk, and sat down upon them. In silent indignation we 
remained smoking for an hour or more, shifting our saddles 
with the shifting shadow, for the sun was intolerably hot. 



CHAPTER XIII 
HUNTING INDIANS 

At last we had reached La Bonte's camp, towards which 
our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary hours, those that 
passed between noon and sunset of that day may bear away 
the palm of exquisite discomfort. I lay under the tree re- 

5 fleeting on what course to pursue, watching the shadows 
which seemed never to move, and the sun which seemed 
fixed in the sky, and hoping every moment to see the men 
and horses of Bisonette emerging from the woods. Shaw 
and Henry had ridden out on a scouting expedition, and 

10 did not return till the sun was setting. There was nothing 
very cheering in their faces or in the news they brought. 

" We have been ten miles from here," said Shaw. " We 
climbed the highest butte we could find, and could not see 
a buffalo or an Indian ; nothing but prairie for twenty miles 

15 around us." Henry's horse was disabled by clambering up 
and down the sides of ravines, and Shaw's was greatly 
fatigued. 

After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, I 
proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer, in hopes of 

20 Bisonette's arrival, and if he should not come, to send 
Deslauriers with the cart and baggage back to Fort Laramie, 
while we ourselves followed The Whirlwind's village, and 
attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. Shaw, 
not having the same motive for hunting Indians that I 

25 had, was averse to the plan ; I therefore resolved to go 
alone. This design I adopted very unwillingly, for I knew 
that in the present state of my health the attempt would 
be painful and hazardous. I hoped that Bisonette would 

150 



HUNTING INDIANS 151 

appear in the course of the following day, and bring us 
some information by which to direct our course, thus 
enabling me to accomplish my purpose by means less ob- 
jectionable. 

The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the sub- 5 
sistence of the party in my absence ; so I called Raymond, 
and ordered him to prepare to set out with me. Raymond 
rolled his eyes vacantly about, but at length, having suc- 
ceeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to his bed 
under the cart. He was a heavy-moulded fellow, with a lo 
broad face, expressing impenetrable stupidity and entire 
self-confidence. As for his good qualities, he had a sort of 
stubborn fidelity, an insensibility to danger, and a kind of 
instinct and sagacity, which sometimes led him right where 
better heads than his were at a loss. Besides this, he knew 15 
very well how to handle a rifle and picket a horse. 

Through the following day the sun glared down upon us 
with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The distant blue prairie 
seemed quivering under it. The lodge of our Indian asso- 
ciates parched in the burning rays, and our rifles, as they 20 
leaned against the tree, were too hot for the touch. There 
was a dead silence through our camp, broken only by the 
hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The men, resting their fore- 
heads on their arms, were sleeping under the cart. The 
Indians kept close within their lodge, except the newly- 25 
married pair, who were seated together under an awning 
of buffalo-robes, and the old conjurer, who, with his hard, 
emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was perched aloft like a 
turkey-buzzard, among the dead branches of an old tree, 
constantly on the lookout for enemies. We dined, and then 30 
Shaw saddled his horse. 

'^ I will ride back," said he, '' to Horseshoe Creek, and see 
if Bisonette is there." 

" I would go with you," I answered, ^' but I must reserve 
all the strength I have." 



152 THE OREGON TRAIL 

The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied myself 
in cleaning my rifle and pistols, and making other prepara- 
tions for the journey. It was late before I wrapped myself 
in my blanket, and lay down for the night, with my head 
5 on my saddle. Shaw had not returned, but this gave us no 
uneasiness, for we supposed that he had fallen in with 
Bisonette, and was spending the night with him. For a day 
or two past I had gained in strength and health, but about 
midnight an attack of pain awoke me, and for some hours 
10 I could not sleep. The moon was quivering on the broad 
breast of the Platte ; nothing could be heard except those 
low inexplicable sounds, like whisperings and footsteps, 
which no one who has spent the night alone amid deserts 
and forests will be at a loss to understand. As I was falling 
15 asleep, a familiar voice, shouting from the distance, awoke 
me again. A rapid step approached the camp, and Shaw, on 
foot, with his gun in his hand, hastily entered. 

" Where 's your horse ? " said I, raising myself on my 
elbow. 
20 " Lost ! " said Shaw. '' Where 's Deslauriers ? " 

" There," I replied, pointing to a confused mass of blankets 
and buffalo-robes. 

Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up 
S23rang our faithful Canadian. 
25 " Come, Deslauriers ; stir up the fire, and get me some- 
thing to eat." 

'' Where 's Bisonette ? " asked L 

'' The Lord knows ; there 's nobody at Horseshoe Creek." 

Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encamped 
30 two days before, and finding nothing there but the ashes of 
our fires, he had tied his horse to the tree while he bathed 
in the stream. Something startled his horse, which broke 
loose, and for two hours Shaw tried in vain to catch him. 
Sunset approached, and it was twelve miles to camp. So 
he abandoned the attempt, and set out on foot to join us. 



HUNTING INDIANS 153 

The greater part of his perilous and solitary walk was in 
darkness. His moccasons were worn to tatters and his 
feet severely lacerated. He sat down to eat, however, the 
usual equanimity of his temper not at all disturbed by his 
misfortune, and my last recollection before falling asleep 5 
was of Shaw, seated cross-legged before the fire, smoking 
his pipe. 

When I awoke again there was a fresh damp smell in the 
air, a gray twilight involved the prairie, and above its east- 
ern verge was a streak of cold red sky. I called to the men, lo 
and in a moment a fire was blazing brightly in the dim 
morning light, and breakfast was getting ready. We sat 
down together on the grass, to the last civilized meal which 
Raymond and I were destined to enjoy for some time. 

" Now bring in the horses." 15 

My little mare Pauline was soon standing by the fire. 
She was a fleet, hardy, and gentle animal, christened after 
Paul Dorion, from whom I had procured her in exchange 
for Pontiac. She did not look as if equipped for a morning 
pleasure-ride. In front of the black, high-bowed mountain- 20 
saddle were fastened holsters, with heavy pistols. A pair of 
saddle-bags, a blanket tightly rolled, a small j)arcel of Indian 
presents tied up in a buffalo-skin, a leather bag of flour, 
and a smaller one of tea, were all secured behind, and a long 
trail-rope was wound round her neck. Raymond had a strong 25 
black mule, equipped in a similar manner. AVe crammed our 
powder-horns to the throat, and mounted. 

'' I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the first of August," 
said I to Shaw. 

'' That is," he replied, " if we don't meet before that. I 30 
think I shall follow after you in a day or two." 

This in fact he attempted, and would have succeeded if 
he had not encountered obstacles against which his resolute 
spirit was of no avail. Two days after I left him he sent 
Deslauriers to the fort with the cart and baggage, and set 



154 THE OREGON TRAIL 

out for the mountains with Henry Chatillon ; but a tremen- 
dous thunder-storm had deluged the prairie, and nearly 
obliterated not only our trail but that of the Indians them- 
selves. They encamped at the base of the mountains, at a 

5 loss in what direction to go. In the morning Shaw found 
himself poisoned by the plant known as "poison ivy," in 
such a manner that it was impossible for him to travel. So 
they turned back reluctantly towards Fort Laramie. Shaw 
lay seriously ill for a week, and remained at the fort till I 

10 rejoined him some time after. 

To return to my own story. Raymond and I shook hands 
with our friends, rode out upon the prairie, and, clambering 
the sandy hollows channelled in the sides of the hills, gained 
the high plains above. If a curse had been pronounced upon 

15 the land, it could not have worn an aspect more forlorn. 
There were abrupt broken hills, deep hollows, and wide 
plains ; but all alike glared with an insupportable whiteness 
under the burning sun. The country, as if parched by the 
heat, was cracked into innumerable fissures and ravines, that 

20 not a little impeded our progress. Their steep sides were 
white and raw, and along the bottom we several times dis- 
covered the broad tracks of the grizzly bear, nowhere more 
abundant than in this region. The ridges of the hills were 
hard as rock, and strewn with pebbles of flint and coarse 

25 red jasper ; looking from them, there was nothing to relieve 
the desert uniformity, save here and there a pine-tree cling- 
ing at the edge of a ravine, and stretching its rough, shaggy 
arms into the scorching air. Its resinous odors recalled the 
pine-clad mountains of New England, and, goaded as I was 

30 with a morbid thirst, I thought with a longing desire on 
the crystal treasure poured in such wasteful profusion from 
our thousand hills. I heard, in fancy, the plunging and 
gurgling of waters among the shaded rocks, and saw them 
gleaming dark and still far down amid the crevices, the cold 
drops trickling from the long green mosses. 



HUNTING INDIANS 155 

When noon came we found a little stream, with a few 
trees and bushes ; and here we rested for an hour. Then 
we travelled on, guided by the sun, until, just before sunset, 
we reached another stream, called Bitter Cotton-wood Creek. 
A thick growth of bushes and old storm-beaten trees grew 5 
at intervals along its bank. Near the foot of one of the trees 
we flung down our saddles, and hobbling our horses, turned 
them loose to feed. The little stream was clear and swift, 
and ran musically over its white sands. Small water-birds 
were splashing in the shallows, and filling the air with cries lo 
and flutterings. The sun was just sinking among gold and 
crimson clouds behind Mount Laramie. I lay upon a log by 
the margin of the water, and watched the restless motions 
of the little fish in a deep, still nook below. Strange to say, 
I seemed to have gained strength since the morning, and 15 
almost felt a sense of returning health. 

We built our fire. Night came, and the wolves began to 
howl. One deep voice began, answered in awful responses 
from hills, plains, and woods. Such sounds do not disturb 
one's sleep upon the prairie. We picketed the mare and the 20 
mule, and did not awake until daylight. Then we turned 
them loose, still hobbled, to feed for an hour before start- 
ing. We were getting ready our breakfast when Eaymond 
saw an antelope half a mile distant and said he would go 
and shoot it. 25 

" Your business," said I, '' is to look after the animals. 
I am too weak to do much, if anything happens to them, 
and you must keep within sight of the camp." 

Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in his hand. 
The mare and the mule had crossed the stream, and were 30 
feeding among the long grass on the other side, much tor- 
mented by the attacks of large green-headed flies. As I 
watched them, I saw them go down into a hollow, and as 
several minutes elapsed without their reappearing, I waded 
through the stream to look after them. To my vexation and 



156 THE OREGON TRAIL 

alarm I discovered them at a great distance, galloping away 
at full speed, Pauline in advance, with her hobbles broken, 
and the mule, still fettered, following with awkward leaps. 
I fired my rifle and shouted to recall Raymond. In a moment 
5 he came running through the stream, with a red handker- 
chief bound round his head. I pointed to the fugitives, and 
ordered him to pursue them. Muttering a " Sacre " between 
his teeth, he set out at full speed, still swinging his rifle in 
his hand. I walked up to the top of a hill, and, looking 

10 away over the prairie, could distinguish the runaways, still 
at full gallop. Returning to the fire, I sat down at the foot 
of a tree. Wearily and anxiously hour after hour passed away. 
The loose bark dangling from the trunk behind me flapped 
to and fro in the wind, and the mosquitoes kept up their 

15 drowsy hum ; but other than this there was no sight nor 
sound of life throughout the burning landscape. The sun 
rose higher and higher, until I knew that it must be noon. 
It seemed scarcely possible that the animals could be re- 
covered. If they were not, my situation was one of serious 

20 difficulty. Shaw, when I left him, had decided to move that 
morning, but whither he had not determined. To look for 
him would be a vain attempt. Fort Laramie was forty miles 
distant, and I could not walk a mile without great effort. 
Not then having learned the philosophy of yielding to 

25 disproportionate obstacles, I resolved, come what would, to 
continue the pursuit of the Indians. Only one plan occurred 
to me ; this was, to send Raymond to the fort with an order 
for more horses, while I remained on the spot, awaiting his 
return, which might take place within three days. But to 

30 remain stationary and alone for three days, in a country 
full of dangerous Indians, was not the most flattering of 
prospects ; and, protracted as my Indian hunt must be by 
such delay, it was not easy to foretell its result. Revolving 
these matters, I grew hungry ; and as our stock of pro- 
visions, except four or five pounds of flour, was by this time 



IIUNTIXG INDIANS 157 

exhausted, I left the camp to see what game I could find. 
Nothing could be seen except four or five large curlews 
wheeling over my head, and now and then alighting upon 
the prairie. I shot two 'of them, and was about returning, 
when a startling sight caught my eye. A small, dark object, 5 
like a human head, suddenly appeared, and vanished among 
the thick bushes along the stream below. In that country 
every stranger is a suspected enemy ; and I threw forward 
the muzzle of my rifle. In a moment the bushes were vio- 
lently shaken, two heads, but not human heads, protruded, 10 
and to my great joy I recognized the downcast, disconsolate 
countenance of the black mule and the yellow visage of 
Pauline. Raymond came upon the mule, pale and haggard, 
complaining of a fiery pain in his chest. I took charge of 
the animals while he kneeled down by the side of the stream 15 
to drink. He had kept the runaways in sight as far as the 
Side Fork of Laramie Creek, a distance of more than ten 
miles ; and here with great difficulty lie had succeeded in 
catching them. I saw that he was unarmed, and asked him 
what he had done with his rifle. It had encumbered him in 20 
his pursuit, and he had dropped it on the prairie, thinking 
that he could find it on his return ; but in this he had failed. 
The loss might prove a very serious one. I was too much 
rejoiced, however, at the recovery of the animals, and at 
the fidelity of Raymond, who might easily have deserted 25 
with them, to think much about it ; and having made some 
tea for him in a tin vessel which we had brought with us, 
I told him that I would give him two hours for resting be- 
fore we set out again. He had eaten nothing that day ; but 
having no appetite, he lay down immediately to sleep. I 30 
picketed the animals among the best grass that I could find, 
and made fires of green wood to protect them from the 
flies ; then sitting down again by the tree, I watched the 
slow movements of the sun, grudging every moment that 
passed. 



158 THE OREGON TRAIL 

The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke Eaymond. 
We saddled and set out again, but first we went in search 
of the lost rifle, and in the course of an hour were fortunate 
enough to lind it. Then we turned westward, and moved 
5 over the hills and hollows at a slow pace towards the Black 
Hills. The heat no longer tormented us, for a cloud was 
before the sun. The air grew fresh and cool, the distant 
mountains frowned more gloomily, there was a low mutter- 
ing of thunder, and dense black masses of cloud rose heavily 

10 behind the broken peaks. At first they were fringed with 
silver by the afternoon sun ; but soon thick blackness over- 
spread the sky, and the desert around us was wrapped in 
gloom. There was an awful sublimity in the hoarse murmur- 
ing of the thunder, and the sombre shadows that involved 

15 the mountains and the plain. The storm broke with a zigzag 
blinding flash, a terrific crash of thunder, and a hurricane 
that howled over the prairie, dashing floods of water against 
us. Eaymond looked about him and cursed the merciless 
elements. There seemed no shelter near, but we discerned 

20 at length a deep ravine gashed in the level prairie, and saw 
half-way down its side an old pine-tree, whose rough hori- 
zontal boughs formed a sort of pent-house against the tem- 
pest. We found a practicable passage, led our animals down, 
and fastened them to large loose stones at the bottom ; then 

25 climbing up, we drew our blankets over our heads, and 
crouched close beneath the old tree. Perhaps I was no com- 
petent judge of time, but it seemed to me that we were sit- 
ting there a full hour, while around us poured a deluge of 
rain, through which the rocks on the opposite side of the 

30 gulf were barely visible. The first burst of the tempest soon 
subsided, but the rain poured in steady torrents. At length 
Eaymond grew impatient, and scrambling out of the ravine, 
gained the level prairie above. 

" What does the weather look like ? " asked I, from my 
seat under the tree. 



HUNTING INDIANS 169 

" It looks bad," he answered : " dark all round " ; and 
again he descended and sat down by my side. Some ten 
minutes elapsed. 

" Go up again," said I, '' and take another look "; and he 
clambered up the precipice. " Well, how is it ? " 5 

" Just the same, only I see one little bright spot over the 
top of the mountain." 

The rain by this time had begun to abate ; and going down 
to the bottom of the ravine, we loosened the animals, who 
were standing up to their knees in water. Leading them up lo 
the rocky throat of the ravine, we reached the plain above. 
All around us was obscurity ; but the bright spot above the 
mountains grew wider and ruddier, until at length the clouds 
drew apart, and a flood of sunbeams poured down, streaming 
along the precipices, and involving them in a thin blue haze, 15 
as soft as that which wraps the Apennines on an evening in 
spring. Rapidly the clouds were broken and scattered, like 
routed legions of evil spirits. The plain lay basking in sun- 
beams around us ; a rainbow arched the desert from north to 
south, and far in front a line of woods seemed inviting us to 20 
refreshment and repose. When we reached them, they were 
glistening with prismatic dewdrops, and enlivened by the songs 
and flutterings of birds. Strange winged insects, benumbed by 
the rain, were clinging to the leaves and the bark of the trees. 

Raymond kindled a fire with great difficulty. The animals 25 
turned eagerly to feed on the soft rich grass, while I, wrap- 
ping myself in my blanket, lay down and gazed on the 
evening landscape. The mountains, whose stern features had 
frowned upon us so gloomily, seemed lighted up with a 
benignant smile, and the green waving undulations of the 30 
plain were gladdened with warm sunshine. Wet, ill, and 
wearied as I was, my heart grew lighter at the view, and I 
drew from it an augury of good. 

When morning came, Raymond awoke, coughing violently, 
though I had apparently received no injury. We mounted. 



160 THE OREGON TRAIL 

crossed the little stream, pushed through the trees, and 
began our journey over the plain beyond. And now, as we 
rode slowly along, we looked anxiously on every hand for 
traces of the Indians, not doubting that the village had 

5 passed somewhere in that vicinity ; but the scanty shrivelled 
grass was not more than three or four inches high, and the 
ground was so hard that a host might have marched over it 
and left scarcely a trace of its passage. Up hill and down 
hill, and clambering through ravines, we continued our jour- 

10 ney. As we were passing the foot of a hill, I saw Raymond, 
who was some rods in advance, suddenly jerk the reins of 
his mule, slide from his seat, and run in a crouching posture 
up a hollow ; then in an instant I heard the sharp crack of 
his rifle. A wounded antelope came running on three legs 

15 over the hill. I lashed Pauline and made after him. My 
fleet little mare soon brought me by his side, and, after leap- 
ing and bounding for a few moments in vain, he stood still, 
as if despairing of escape. His glistening eyes turned up 
towards my face with so piteous a look that it was with feel- 

20 ings of infinite compunction that I shot him through the 
head with a pistol. Raymond skinned and cut him up, and 
we hung the fore-quarters to our saddles, much rejoiced 
that our exhausted stock of provisions was renewed in such 
good time. 

25 Gaining the top of a hill, we could see along the cloudy 
verge of the prairie before us the lines of trees and shadowy 
groves, that marked the course of Laramie Creek. Before 
noon we reached its banks, and began anxiously to search 
them for footprints of the Indians. We followed the stream 

30 for several miles, now on the shore and now wading 
in the water, scrutinizing every sand-bar and every muddy 
bank. So long was the search that we began to fear 
that we had left the trail undiscovered behind us. At length 
I heard Raymond shouting, and saw him jump from his 
mule to examine some object under the shelving bank. 



HUNTING INDIANS 161 

I rode up to his side. It was the impression of an Indian 
moccason. Encouraged by this, we continued our search till 
at last some appearances on a soft surface of earth not far 
from the shore attracted my eye; and going to examine 
them, I found half a dozen tracks, some made by men and 5 
some by children. Just then Raymond observed across the 
stream the mouth of a brook, entering it from the south. 
He forded the water, rode in at the opening, and in a mo- 
ment I heard him shouting again ; so I passed over and 
joined him. The brook had a broad sandy bed, along which lo 
the water trickled in a scanty stream ; and on either bank 
the bushes were so close that the view was completely inter- 
cepted. I found Raymond stooping over the footprints of 
three or four horses. Proceeding, we found those of a man, 
then those of a child, then those of more horses ; till at last 15 
the bushes on each bank were beaten down and broken, and 
the sand ploughed up with a multitude of footsteps, and 
scored across with the furrows made by the lodge-poles that 
had been dragged through. It was now certain that we had 
found the trail. I pushed through the bushes, and at a 20 
little distance on the prairie beyond found the ashes of 
a hundred and fifty lodge-fires, with bones and pieces of 
buffalo-robes scattered about, and the pickets to which horses 
had been tied, still standing in the ground. Elated by our 
success, we selected a convenient tree, and, turning the ani- 25 
mals loose, prepared to make a meal from the haunch of the 
antelope. 

Hardship and exposure had thriven with me wonderfully. 
I had gained both health and strength since leaving La 
Route's camp. Raymond and I dined together, in high 30 
spirits ; for we rashly presumed that having found one end 
of the trail we should have little difficulty in reaching the 
other. Rut when the animals were led in, we found that our 
ill-luck had not ceased to follow us. As I was saddling 
Pauline, I saw that her eye was dull as lead, and the hue of 



162 THE OREGON TRAIL 

her yellow coat visibly darkened. I placed my foot in the 
stirrup to mount, when she staggered and fell flat on her 
side. Gaining her feet with an effort, she stood by the fire 
with a drooping head. Whether she had been bitten by a 
5 snake, or poisoned by some noxious plant, or attacked by a 
sudden disorder, it was hard to say ; but at all events, her 
sickness was sufficiently ill-timed and unfortunate. I suc- 
ceeded in a second attempt to mount her, and with a slow 
pace we moved forward on the trail of the Indians. It led 

10 us up a hill and over a dreary plain ; and here, to our great 
mortification, the traces almost disappeared, for the ground 
was hard as adamant ; and if its flinty surface had ever re- 
tained the dent of a hoof, the marks had been washed away by 
the deluge of yesterday. An Indian village, in its disorderly 

15 march, is scattered over the prairie often to the width of 
half a mile ; so that its trail is nowhere clearly marked, and 
the task of following it is made doubly wearisome and diffi- 
cult. By good fortune, many large ant-hills, a yard or more 
in diameter, were scattered over the plain, and these were 

20 frequently broken by the footprints of men and horses, and 
marked by traces of the lodge-poles. The succulent leaves 
of the prickly-pear, bruised from the same causes, also helped 
to guide us ; so, inch by inch, we moved along. Often we 
lost the trail altogether, and then found it again ; but late 

25 in the afternoon we were totally at fault. We stood alone, 
without a clew to guide us. The broken plain expanded for 
league after league around us, and in front the long dark 
ridge of mountains stretched from north to south. Mount 
Laramie, a little on our right, towered high above the rest, 

30 and from a dark valley just beyond one of its lower decliv- 
ities, we discerned volumes of white smoke rising slowly. 

" I think," said Raymond, " some Indians must be there. 
Perhaps we had better go." But this plan was not lightly 
to be adopted, and we determined still to continue our search 
after the lost trail. Our good stars prompted us to this 



HUNTING INDIANS 163 

decision, for we afterward had reason to believe, from infor- 
mation given us by the Indians, that the smoke was raised 
as a decoy by a Crow war-party. 

Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or water 
nearer than the foot of the mountains. So thither we turned, 5 
directing our course towards the point where Laramie Creek 
issues upon the prairie. When we reached it, the bare tops 
of the mountains were still bright with sunshine. The little 
river was breaking, with an angry current, from its dark 
prison. There was something in the close vicinity of the 10 
mountains and the loud surging of the rapids, wonderfully 
cheering and exhilarating. There was a grass-plot by the 
river-bank, surrounded by low ridges, which would effectu- 
ally screen us and our fire from the sight of wandering 
Indians. Here, among the grass, I observed numerous circles 15 
of large stones, traces of a Dahcotah winter encampment. We 
lay down, and did not awake till the sun was up. A large 
rock projected from the shore, and behind it the deep water 
was slowly eddying round and round. The temptation was 
irresistible. I threw off my clothes, leaped in, suffered my- 20 
self to be borne once round with the current, and then, seizing 
the strong root of a water-plant, drew myself to the shore. 
The effect was so refreshing that I mistook it for returning 
health. But scarcely were we mounted and on our way, be- 
fore the momentary glow passed. Again I hung as usual in 25 
my seat, scarcely able to hold myself erect. 

" Look yonder," said Raymond ; " you see that big hollow 
there ; the Indians must have gone that way, if they went 
anywhere about here." 

W^e reached the gap, which was like a deep notch cut into 30 
the mountain-ridge, and here we soon found an ant-hill 
furrowed with the mark of a lodge-pole. This was quite 
enough ; there could be no doubt now. As we rode on, the 
opening growing narrower, the Indians had been compelled 
to march in closer order, and the traces became numerous 



164 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and distinct. The gap terminated in a rocky gateway, lead- 
ing into a rough and steep delile, between two precipitous 
mountains. Here grass and weeds were bruised to fragments 
by the throng that had passed through. We moved slowly 

■5 over the rocks, up the passage ; and in this toilsome manner 
advanced for an hour or two, bare precipices, hundreds of 
feet high, shooting up on either hand. Raymond, with his 
hardy mule, was a few rods before me, when we came to the 
foot of an ascent steeper than the rest, and which I trusted 

10 might prove the highest point of the dehle. Pauline strained 
upward for a few yards, moaning and stumbling, and then 
came to a dead stop, unable to proceed further. I dis- 
mounted, and attempted to lead her ; but my own exhausted 
strength soon gave out ; so I loosened the trail-rope from 

15 her neck, and tying it round my arm, crawled up on my 
hands and knees. I gained the top, totally spent, the sweat- 
drops trickling from my forehead. Pauline stood like a 
statue by my side, her shadow falling upon the scorching 
rock ; and in this shade, for there was no other, I lay for 

20 some time, scarcely able to move a limb. All around, the 
black crags, sharp as needles at the top, stood baking in the 
sun, without tree or bush or blade of grass to cover their 
nakedness. The whole scene seemed parched with a pitiless, 
insufferable heat. 

25 After a wliile I could mount again, and we moved on, 
descending the defile on its western side. There was some- 
thing ridiculous in the situation. Man and horse were help- 
less alike. Pauline and I could neither fight nor run. 

Raymond's saddle-girth slipped ; and while I proceeded 

30 he stopped to repair the mischief. I came to the top of a 
little declivity, where a welcome sight greeted my eye ; a 
nook of fresh green grass nestled among the cliffs, sunny 
clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggy old pine-trees 
leaning from the rocks on the other. A shrill, familiar voice 
saluted me, and recalled me to days of boyhood ; that of the 



HUNTING INDIANS 165 

Insect called the " locust " by New England schoolboys, 
which was clinging among the heated boughs of the old 
pine-trees. Then, too, as I passed the bushes, the low sound 
of falling water reached my ear. Pauline turned of her own 
accord, and pushing through the boughs, we found a black 5 
rock, overarched by the cool green canopy. An icy stream 
was pouring from its side into a wide basin of white sand, 
whence it had no visible outlet, but filtered through into the 
soil below. While I filled a tin cup at the spring, Pauline 
was eagerly plunging her head deep in the pool. Other 10 
visitors had been there before us. All around in the soft soil 
were the footprints of elk, deer, and the Eockj'-Mountain 
sheep; and the grizzly bear too had left the recent prints 
of his broad foot, with its frightful array of claws. Among 
these mountains was his home. 15 

Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy 
plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, to our great 
joy, with all the traces of an Indian camp. Raymond's 
practised eye detected certain signs, by which he recognized 
the spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched and his 20 
horses picketed. I approached, and stood looking at the 
place. Reynal and I had, I believe, hardly a feeling in 
common, and it perplexed me a good deal to understand 
why I should look with so much interest on the ashes of 
his fire, when between him and me there was no other 25 
bond of sympathy than the slender and precarious one of 
a kindred race. 

In half an hour from this we were free of the mountains. 
There was a plain before us, totally barren and thickly 
peopled in many parts with prairie-dogs, who sat at the 30 
mouths of their burrows, and yelped at us as we passed. 
The plain, as we thought, was about six miles wide ; but it 
cost us two hours to cross it. Then another mountain-range 
rose before us. From the dense bushes that clothed the 
steeps for a thousand feet shot up black crags, all leaning 



166 THE OREGON TRAIL 

one way, and shattered by storms and thunder into grim and 
threatening shapes. As we entered a narrow passage on the 
trail of the Indians, they impended frightfully above our 
heads. 

5 Our course was through thick woods, in the shade and 
sunlight of overhanging boughs. As we wound from side to 
side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, we could see 
at intervals, through the foliage, the awful forms of the 
gigantic cliffs, that seemed to hem us in on the right and 

10 on the left, before and behind. 

In an open space, fenced in by high rocks, stood two 
Indian forts, of a square form, rudely built of sticks and 
logs. They were somewhat ruinous, having probably, been 
constructed the year before. Each might have contained 

15 about twenty men. Perhaps in this gloomy spot some party 
had been beset by enemies, and those scowling rocks and 
blasted trees might not long since have looked down on a 
conflict, unchronicled and unknown. Yet if any traces of 
bloodshed remained they were hidden by the bushes and 

20 tall rank weeds. 

Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the passage ex- 
panded into a plain, where again we found traces of an 
Indian encampment. There were trees and bushes just be- 
fore us, and we stopped here for an hour's rest and refresh- 

25 ment. When we had finished our meal, Raymond struck fire, 
and, lighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of a tree to 
smoke. For some time I observed him puffing away with a 
face of unusual solemnity. Then slowly taking the pipe 

* from his lips, he looked up and remarked that we had better 

30 not go any farther. 

" Why not ? " asked I. 

He said that the country was become very dangerous, that 
we were entering the range of the Snakes, Arapahoes, and 
Gros-Ventre Blackfeet, and tlmt if any of their wandering 
parties should meet us, it would cost us our lives ; but he 



HUNTING INDIANS 167 

added with blunt fidelity that he would go anywhere I 
wished. I told him to bring up the animals, and mounting 
them we proceeded again. I confess that, as we moved for- 
ward, the prospect seemed but a doubtful one. I would have 
given the world for my ordinary elasticity of body and mind, 5 
and for a horse of such strength and spirit as the journey 
required. 

Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, growing 
taller and steeper, and pressing more and more upon our 
path. We entered at length a defile which, in its way, I lo 
never have seen rivalled. The mountain was cracked from 
top to bottom, and we were creeping along the bottom of the 
fissure, in dampness and gloom, with the clink of hoofs on 
the loose shingly rocks, and the hoarse murmuring of a 
petulant brook which kept us company. Sometimes the 15 
water, foaming among the stones, overspread the whole 
narrow passage ; sometimes, withdrawing to one side, it 
gave us room to pass dry-shod. Looking up, we could see a 
narrow ribbon of bright blue sky between the dark edges of 
the opposing cliffs. This did not last long. The passage soon 20 
widened, and sunbeams found their way down, flashing upon 
the black waters. The defile would spread to many rods in 
width ; bushes, trees, and flowers would spring by the side of 
the brook ; the cliffs would be feathered with shrubber}-, that 
clung in every crevice, and fringed with trees, that grew along 25 
their sunny edges. Then we would be moving again in dark- 
ness. The passage seemed about four miles long, and before we 
reached the end of it, the unshod hoofs of our animals were 
broken, and their legs cut by the sharp stones. Issuing from 
the mountain we found another plain. All around it stood 30 
a circle of precipices, that seemed the impersonation of 
Silence and Solitude. Here again the Indians had encamped, 
as well they might, after passing with their women, children, 
and horses, through the gulf behind us. In one day we had 
made a journey which it had cost them three to accomplish. 



168 THE OREGON TRAIL 

The only outlet to this amphitheatre lay over a hill some 
two hundred feet high, up which we moved with difficulty. 
Looking from the top, we saw that at last we were free of 
the mountains. The prairie spread before us, but so wild and 

5 broken that the view was everywhere obstructed. Far on 
our left one tall hill swelled up against the sky, on the 
smooth, pale-green surface of which four slowly moving 
black specks were discernible. They were evidently buffalo, 
and we hailed the sight as a good augury ; for where the 

10 buffalo were, there the Indians would probably be found. 
We hoped on that very night to reach the village. We were 
anxious to do so for a double reason, wishing to bring our 
journey to an end, and knowing moreover that though to 
enter the village in broad daylight would be perfectly safe, 

15 yet to encamp in its vicinity would be dangerous. But as 
we rode on, the sun was sinking, and soon was within half 
an hour of the horizon. We ascended a hill, and looked 
about us for a spot for our encampment. The' prairie was 
like a turbulent ocean, suddenly congealed when its waves 

20 were at the highest, and it lay half in light and half in 
shadow, as the rich sunshine, yellow as gold, was pouring 
over it. The rough bushes of the wild sage were growing 
everywhere, its dull pale-green overspreading hill and hol- 
low. Yet a little way before us, a bright verdant line of 

25 grass was winding along the plain, and here and there 
throughout its course glistened pools of water. We went 
down to it, kindled a fire, and turned our horses loose to 
feed. It was a little trickling brook, that for some yards on 
either side turned the barren prairie into fertility, and here 

30 and there it spread into deep pools, where the beavers had 
dammed it up. 

We placed our last remaining piece of antelope before a 
scanty fire, mournfully reflecting on our exhausted stock of 
provisions. Just then a large gray hare, peculiar to these 
prairies, came jumping along, and seated himself within 



HUNTING INDIANS 169 

fifty yards to look at us. I thoughtlessly raised my rifle to 
shoot him, but Kaymond called out to me not to fire for fear 
the report should reach the ears of the Indians. That night 
for the first time we considered that the danger to which 
we were exposed was of a somewhat serious character ; and 5 
to those who are unacquainted with Indians, it may seem 
strange that our chief apprehensions arose from the sup- 
posed proximity of the people whom we intended to visit. 
Had any straggling party of these faithful friends caught 
sight of us from the hill-top, they would probably have re- 10 
turned in the night to plunder us of our horses, and perhaps 
of our scalps. But the prairie is unfavorable to nervousness ; 
and I presume that neither Raymond nor I thought twice of 
the matter that evening. 

For eight hours pillowed on our saddles, we lay insensible 15 
as logs. Pauline's yellow head was stretched over me when I 
awoke. I rose and examined her. Her feet were bruised and 
swollen by the accidents of yesterday, but her eye was 
brighter, her motions livelier, and her mysterious malady 
had visibly abated. We moved on, hoping within an hour 20 
to come in sight of the Indian village ; but again disappoint- 
ment awaited us. The trail disappeared upon a hard and 
stony plain. Raymond and I rode from side to side, scruti- 
nizing every yard of ground, until at length I found traces of 
the lodge-poles, by the side of a ridge of rocks. We began 25 
again to follow them. 

" What is that black spot out there on the prairie ? " 

" It looks like a dead buffalo," answered Raymond. 

We rode to it, and found it to be the huge carcass of a 
bull killed by the hunters as they had passed. Tangled hair 30 
and scraps of hide were scattered on all sides, for the wolves 
had made merry over it, and hollowed out the entire carcass. 
It was covered with myriads of large black crickets, and 
from its appearance must have lain there four or five days. 
The sight was a disheartening one, and I observed to 



170 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Raymond that the Indians might still be fifty or sixty miles 
off. But he shook his head, and replied that they dared not 
go so far for fear of their enemies, the Snakes. 

Soon after this we lost the trail again, and ascended a 

5 neighboring ridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay a plain 
perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left, without appar- 
ent limit, and bounded in front by a long broken line of 
hills, ten or twelve miles distant. All was open and exposed 
to view, yet not a buffalo nor an Indian was visible. 

10 " Do you see that ? " said Raymond : " now we had better 
turn round." 

But as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, we de- 
scended the hill and began to cross the plain. We had come 
so far that neither Pauline's limbs nor my own could carry 

15 me back to Fort Laramie. I considered that the lines of 
expediency and inclination tallied exactly, and that the most 
prudent course was to keep forward. The ground imme- 
diately around us was thickly strewn with the skulls and 
bones of buffalo, for here a year or two before the Indians 

20 had made a " surround " ; yet no living game was in sight: 
At length an antelope sprang up and gazed at us. We fired 
together, and both missed, although the animal stood, a fair 
mark, within eighty yards. This ill-success might perhaps 
be charged to our own eagerness, for by this time we had 

25 no provisions left except a little flour. We could see several 
pools of water, glistening in the distance. As we approached, 
wolves and antelopes bounded away through the tall grass 
around them, and flocks of large white plover flew scream- 
ing over their surface. Having failed of the antelope, Ray- 

30 mond tried his hand at the birds, with the same ill-success. 
The water also disappointed us. Its margin was so mired 
by the crowd of buffalo that our timorous animals were 
afraid to approach. So we turned away and moved towards 
the hills. The rank grass where it was not trampled down 
by the buffalo, fairly swept our horses' necks. 



HUNTING INDIANS 171 

Again we found the same execrable barren prairie offering 
no clew by which to guide our way. As we drew near the 
hills, an oj^ening appeared, through which the Indians must 
have gone if they had passed that way at all. Slowly we 
began to ascend it. I felt the most dreary forebodings of 5 
ill-success, when on looking round I could discover neither 
dent of hoof, nor footprint, nor trace of lodge-pole, though 
the passage was encumbered by the skulls of buffalo. We 
heard thunder muttering ; another storm was coming on. 

As we gained the top of the gap, the prospect beyond lo 
began to disclose itself. First, we saw a long dark line of 
ragged clouds upon the horizon, while above them rose the 
peaks of the Medicine Bow range, the vanguard of the 
Rocky Mountains ; then little by little the plain came into 
view, a vast green uniformity, forlorn and tenantless, though 15 
Laramie Creek glistened in a waving line over its surface, 
without a bush or a tree upon its banks. As yet, the round 
projecting shoulder of a hill intercepted a part of the view. 
I rode in advance, when suddenly I could distinguish a few 
dark spots on the prairie, along the bank of the stream. 20 

" Buffalo ! " said I. 

" Horses, by God ! " exclaimed Raymond, lashing his mule 
forward as he spoke. More and more of the plain disclosed 
itself, and more and more horses appeared, scattered along 
the river-bank, or feeding in bands over the prairie. Then, 25 
standing in a circle by the stream, swarming with their 
savage inhabitants, we saw, a mile or more off, the tall 
lodges of the Ogillallah. Never did the heart of wanderer 
more gladden at the sight of home than did mine at the 
sight of that Indian camp. 30 



CHAPTER XIV 
THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 

This is hardly the place for portraying the mental features 
of the Indians. The same picture, slightly changed in shade 
and coloring, would serve with very few exceptions for all 
the tribes north of the Mexican territories. But with this 
5 similarity in their modes of thought, the tribes of the lake 
and ocean shores, of the forests and of the plains, differ 
greatly in their manner of life. Having been domesticated 
for several weeks among one of the wildest of the hordes 
that roam over the remote prairies, I had unusual opportu- 

10 nities of observing them, and flatter myself that a sketch 
of the scenes that passed daily before my eyes may not be 
devoid of interest. They were thorough savages. Neither 
their manners nor their ideas were in the slightest degree 
modified by contact with civilization. They knew nothing 

15 of the power and real character of the white men, and their 
children would scream in terror when they saw nie. Their 
religion, superstitions, and prejudices were the same handed 
down to them from immemorial time. They fought with 
the weapons that their fathers fought with, and wore the 

20 same garments of skins. They were living representatives 
of the " stone age " ; for though their lances and arrows 
were tipped with iron procured from the traders, they still 
used the rude stone mallet of the primeval world. 

Great changes are at hand in that region. With the 

25 stream of emigration to Oregon and California, the buffalo 
will dwindle away, and the large wandering communities 
who depend on them for support must be broken and scat- 
tered. The Indians will soon be abased by whiskey and 

172 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 173 

overawed by military posts ; so that within a few years 
the traveller may pass in tolerable security through their 
country. Its danger and its charm will have disappeared 
together. 

As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village from 5 
the gap in the hills, we were seen in our turn ; keen eyes 
were constantly on the watch. As we rode down upon the 
plain, the side of the village nearest us was darkened with 
a crowd of naked figures. Several men came forward to 
meet us. I could distinguish among them the green blanket 10 
of the Frenchman Reynal. When we came up the ceremony 
of shaking hands had to be gone through in due form, and 
then all were eager to know what had become of the rest of 
my party. I satisfied them on this point, and we all moved 
together towards the village. 15 

''You've missed it," said Reynal ; "if you'd been here 
day before yesterday, you'd have found the whole prairie 
over yonder black with buffalo as far as you could see. 
There were no cows, though ; nothing but bulls. We made 
a ^ surround ' every day till yesterday. See the village there ; 20 
don't that look like good living ? " 

In fact, I could see, even at that distance, long cords 
stretched from lodge to lodge, over which the meat, cut by 
the squaws into thin sheets, was hanging to dry in the sun. 
I noticed too that the village was somewhat smaller than 25 
when I had last seen it, and I asked Reynal the cause. He 
said that old Le Borgne had felt too weak to pass over the 
mountains, and so had remained behind with all his relations, 
including Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers. The Whirlwind 
too had been unwilling to come so far, because, as Reynal 30 
said, he was afraid. Only half a dozen lodges had adhered 
to him, the main body of the village setting their chief's 
authority at naught, and taking the course most agreeable 
to their inclinations. 

^' What chiefs are there in the village now ? " asked I. 



174 THE OREGON TRAIL 

'' Well," said Reynal, '' there 's old Red- Water, and the 
Eagle-Feather, and the Big Crow, and the Mad Wolf, and 
the Panther, and the White Shield, and — what 's his name ? 
— the half-breed Shienne." 
5 By this time we were close to the village, and I observed 
that while the greater part of the lodges were very large 
and neat in their appearance, there was at one side a cluster of 
squalid, miserable huts. I looked towards them, and made 
some remark about their wretched appearance. But I was 
10 touching upon delicate ground. 

'' My squaw's relations live in those lodges," said Reynal, 
very warmly ; " and there is n't a better set in the whole 
village." 

'' Are there any chiefs among them ? " 
15 " Chiefs ? " said Reynal ; " yes, plenty ! " 

" What are their names ? " 

" Their names ? Why, there 's the Arrow-Head. If he 
is n't a chief, he ought to be one. And there 's the Hail- 
Storm. He 's nothing but a boy, to be sure ; but he 's bound 
20 to be a chief one of these days." 

Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and 
entered the great area of the village. Superb, naked figures 
stood silently gazing on us. 

'' Where 's the Bad Wound's lodge ? " said I to Reynal. 
25 '' There, you 've missed it again ! The Bad Wound is 
away with The Whirlwind. If you could have found him 
here, and gone to live in his lodge, he would have treated 
you better than any man in the village. But there's the 
Big Crow's lodge yonder, next to old Red- Water's. He 's a 
30 good Indian for the whites, and I advise you to go and live 
with him." 

" Are there many squaws and children in his lodge ? " 
said I. 

'' No ; only one squaw and two or three children. He 
keeps the rest in a separate lodge by themselves." 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 175 

So, still followed by a crowd of Indians, Raymond and I 
rode up to the entrance of the Big Crow's lodge. A squaw 
came out immediately and took our horses. I put aside the 
leather flap that covered the low opening, and stooping, 
entered the Big Crow's dwelling. There I could see the 5 
chief in the dim light, seated at one side, on a pile of buffalo- 
robes. He greeted me with a guttural '' How, cola! " I re- 
quested Reynal to tell him that Raymond and I were come 
to live with him. The Big Crow gave another low exclama- 
tion. The announcement may seem ijitrusive, but, in fact, lo 
every Indian in the village would have deemed himself 
honored that white men should give such preference to his 
hospitality. 

The squaw spread a buft'alo-robe for us in the guest's 
place at the head of the lodge. Our saddles were brought 15 
in, and scarcely were we seated upon them before the place 
was thronged with Indians, crowding in to see us. The Big 
Crow produced his pipe and filled it with the mixture of 
tobacco and shongsasha^ or red willow bark. Round and 
round it passed, and a lively conversation went forward. 20 
Meanwhile a squaw placed before the two guests a wooden 
bowl of boiled buffalo-meat ; but unhappily this was not 
the only banquet destined to be inflicted on us. One after 
another, boys and young squaws thrust their heads in at 
the opening, to invite us to various feasts in different parts 25 
of the village. For half an hour or more we were actively 
engaged in passing from lodge to lodge, tasting in each of 
the bowl of meat set before us, and inhaling a whiff or two 
from our entertainer's pipe. A thunder-storm that had been 
threatening for some time now began in good earnest. We 30 
crossed over to Reynal's lodge, though it hardly deserved 
the name, for it consisted only of a few old buffalo-robes, 
supported on poles, and was quite open on one side. Here 
we sat down, and the Indians gathered round us. 

" What is it," said I, '' that makes the thunder ? " 



176 THE OREGON TRAIL 

"It's my belief," said Reynal, ''that it's a big stone 
rolling over the sky." 

" Very likely," I replied ; " but I want to know what the 
Indians think about it." 

5 So he interpreted my question, which produced some 
debate. There was a difference of opinion. At last old 
Mene-Seela, or Red- Water, who sat by himself at one side, 
looked up with his withered face, and said he had always 
known what the thunder was. It was a great black bird ; 

10 and once he had seen it, in a dream, swooping down from the 
Black Hills, with its loud roaring wings ; and when it flapped 
them over a lake, they struck lightning from the water. 

" The thunder is bad," said another old man, who sat 
muffled in his buffalo-robe ; " he killed my brother last 

15 summer." 

Reynal, at my request, asked for an explanation ; but the 
old man remained doggedly silent, and would not look up. 
Some time after, I learned how the accident occurred. The 
man who was killed belonged to an association which, among 

20 other mystic functions, claimed the exclusive power and 
privilege of fighting the thunder. Whenever a storm which 
they wished to, avert was threatening, the thunder-lighters 
would take their bows and arrows, their guns, their magic 
drum, and a sort of whistle, made out of the wing-bone of 

25 the war-eagle, and, thus equipped, run out and fire at the 
rising cloud, whooping, yelling, whistling, and beating their 
drum, to frighten it down again. One afternoon, a heavy 
black cloud was coming up, and they repaired to the top 
of a hill, where they brought all their magic artillery into 

30 play against it. But the undaunted thunder, refusing to 
be terrified, darted out a bright flash, which struck one of 
the party dead as he was in the very act of shaking his 
long iron-pointed lance against it. The rest scattered and 
ran yelling in an ecstasy of superstitious terror back to 
their lodges. 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 177 

The lodge of my host Kongra-Tonga, or the Big Crow, 
presented a picturesque spectacle that ev^ening. A score or 
more of Indians were seated around it in a circle, their dark 
naked forms just visible by the dull light of the smoulder- 
ing fire in the middle. The pipe glowed brightly in the 5 
gloom as it passed from hand to hand. Then a squaw would 
drop a piece of buffalo-fat on the dull embers. Instantly a 
bright flame would leap up, darting its light to the very 
apex of the tall conical structure, where the tops of the 
slender poles that supported the covering of hide were lo 
gathered together. It gilded the features of the Indians, as 
with animated gestures they sat around it, telling their end- 
less stories of war and hunting, and displayed rude garments 
of skins that hung around the lodge ; the bow, quiver, and 
lance, suspended over the resting-place of the chief, and the 15 
rifles and powder-horns of the two white guests. For a . 
moment all would be bright as day ; then the flames would 
die out ; fitful flashes from the embers would illumine the 
lodge, and then leave it in darkness. Then the light would 
wholly fade, and the lodge and all within it be involved 20 
again in obscurity. 

As I left the lodge next morning, I was saluted by howl- 
ing and yelping all around the village, and half its canine 
population rushed forth to the attack. Being as cowardly as 
they were clamorous, they kept jumping about me at the 25 
distance of a few yards, only one little cur, about ten inches 
long, having spirit enough to make a direct assault. He 
dashed valiantly at the leather tassel which in the Dahcotah 
fashion was trailing behind the heel of my moccason, and 
kept his hold, growling and snarling all the while, though 30 
every step I made almost jerked him over on his back. As 
I knew that the eyes of the whole village were on the watch 
to see if I showed any sign of fear, I walked forward without 
looking to the right or left, surrounded wherever I went by 
this magic circle of dogs. When I came to Reynal's lodge I 



178 THE OREGON TRAIL 

sat down by it, on which the dogs dispersed growling to 
their respective quarters. Only one large white one remained, 
running about before me and showing his teeth. I called him, 
but he only growled the more. I looked at him well. He 
5 was fat and sleek ; just such a dog as I wanted. " My 
friend," thought I, " you shall pay for this ! I will have 
you eaten this very morning ! " 

I intended that day to give the Indians a feast, by way of 
conveying a favorable impression of my character and dig- 

10 nity ; and a white dog is the dish which the customs of the 
Dahcotah prescribe for all occasions of formality and im- 
portance. I consulted Eeynal : he soon discovered that an 
old woman in the next lodge was owner of the white dog. I 
took a gaudy cotton handkerchief, and, laying it on the 

15 ground, arranged some vermilion, beads, and other trinkets 
upon it. Then the old squaw was summoned. I pointed to 
the dog and to the handkerchief. She gave a scream of de- 
light, snatched up the prize, and vanished with it into her 
lodge. For a few more trifles, I engaged the services of two 

20 other squaws, each of whom took the white dog by one of 
his paws, and led him away behind the lodges. Having 
killed him, they threw him into a fire to singe ; then chopped 
him up and put him into two large kettles to boil. Mean- 
while I told Raymond to fry in buffalo fat what little flour 

25 we had left, and also to make a kettle of tea as an additional 
luxury. 

The Big Crow's squaw was briskly at work sweeping out 
the lodge for the approaching festivity. I confided to my 
host himself the task of inviting the guests, thinking that I 

30 might thereby shift from my own shoulders the odium of 
neglect and oversight. 

When feasting is in question, one hour of the day serves 
an Indian as well as another. My entertainment came off at 
about eleven o'clock. At that hour, Reynal and Raymond 
walked across the area of the village, to the admiration of 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 179 

the inhabitants, carrying the two kettles of dog-meat slung 
on a pole between them. These they placed in the centre of 
the lodge, and then went back for the bread and the tea. 
Meanwhile I had put on a pair of brilliant moccasons, and 
substituted for my old buck-skin frock a coat, which I had 5 
brought with me in view of such public occasions. I also 
made careful use of the razor, an operation which no man 
will neglect who desires to gain the good opinion of Indians. 
Thus attired, I seated myself between Reynal and Raymond 
at the head of the lodge. Only a few minutes elapsed before lo 
all the guests had come in and were seated on the ground, 
wedged together in a close circle. Each brought with him a 
wooden bowl to hold his share of the repast. When all were 
assembled, two of the officials called " soldiers " by the white 
men came forward with ladles made of the horn of the 15 
Rocky Mountain sheep, and began to distribute the feast, 
assigning a double share to the old men and chiefs. The 
dog vanished with astonishing celerity, and each guest turned 
his dish bottom upward to show that all was gone. Then 
the bread was distributed in its turn, and finally the tea. 20 
As the " soldiers " poured it out into the same wooden bowls 
that had served for the substantial part of the meal, I 
thought it had a particularly curious and uninviting color. 

" Oh," said Reynal, " there was not tea enough, so I 
stirred some soot in the kettle, to make it look strong." 25 

Fortunately an Indian's palate is not very discriminat- 
ing. The tea was well sweetened, and that was all they 
cared for. 

Xow, the feast being over, the time for speech-making was 
come. The Big Crow produced a flat piece of wood on which 30 
he cut uy tobacco and sliongsasha, and mixed them in due 
proportions. The pipes were filled and passed from hand to 
hand around the company. Then I began my speech, each 
sentence being interpreted by Reynal as I went on, and 
echoed by the whole audience with the usual exclamations 



180 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of assent and approval. As nearly as I can recollect, it was 
as follows : — 

" I had come," I told them, " from a country so far dis- 
tant that at the rate they travel, they could not reach it in 
5 a year." 

"How! how!" 

" There the Meneaska were more numerous than the blades 
of grass on the prairie. The squaws were far more beautiful 
than any they had ever seen, and all the men were brave 
lo warriors." 

" How ! how ! how ! " 

I was assailed by twinges of conscience as I uttered these 
last words. But I recovered myself and began again. 

'' While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I had heard 

15 of the Ogillallah, how great and brave a nation they were, 

how they loved the whites, and how well they could hunt 

the buffalo and strike their enemies. I resolved to come and 

see if all that I heard was true." 

" How ! how ! how ! how ! " 
20 '' As I had come on horseback through the mountains, I 
had been able to bring them only a very few presents." 

"How!" 

" But I had enough tobacco to give them all a small piece. 
They might smoke it and see how much better it was than 
25 the tobacco which they got from the traders." 

" How ! how ! how ! " 

" I had plenty of powder, lead, knives, and tobacco at Fort 
Laramie. These I was anxious to give them, and if any of 
them should come to the fort before I went away, I would 
30 make them handsome presents." 

" How ! how ! how ! how ! " » 

Raymond then cut up and distributed among them two 
or three pounds of tobacco, and old Mene-Seela began to 
make a reply. It was long, but the following was the pith 
of it. 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 181 

" He had always loved the whites. They were the wisest 
people on earth. He believed they could do anything, and 
he was always glad when any of them came to live in the 
Ogillallah lodges. It was true I had not made them many 
presents, but the reason of it was plain. It was clear that I 5 
liked them, or I never should have come so far to find their 
village." 

Several other speeches of similar import followed, and 
then, this more serious matter being disposed of, there was 
an interval of smoking, laughing, and conversation. Old 10 
iVIene-Seela suddenly interrupted it with a loud voice : — 

'' Now is a good time," he said, " when all the old men and 
chiefs are here together, to decide what the people shall do. 
We came over the mountains to make our lodges for next 
year. Our old ones are good for nothing ; they are rotten 15 
and worn out. But we have been disappointed. We have 
killed buffalo-bulls enough, but we have found no herds of 
cows, and the skins of bulls are too thick and heavy for our 
squaws to make lodges of. There must be plenty of cows 
about the Medicine Bow Mountain. We ought to go there. 20 
To be sure, it is farther westward than we have ever been 
before, and perhaps the Snakes will attack us, for those 
hunting-grounds belong to them. But we must have new 
lodges at any rate ; our old ones will not serve for another 
year. We ought not to be afraid of the Snakes. Our warriors 25 
are brave, and they are all ready for war. Besides, we have 
three white men with their rifles to help us." 

This speech produced a good deal of debate. As Keynal 
did not interpret what was said, I could only judge of the 
meaning by the features and gestures of the speakers. At 30 
the end of it, however, the greater number seemed to have 
fallen in with Mene-Seela's opinion. A short silence fol- 
lowed, and then the old man struck up a discordant chant, 
which I was told was a song of thanks for the entertainment 
I had given them. 



182 THE OREGON TRAIL 

" Now," said he, " let us go and give the white men a 
chance to breathe." 

So the company all dispersed into the open air, and for some 
time the old chief was walking round the village, singing his 

5 song in praise of the feast, after the custom of the nation. 

At last the day drew to a close ; and as the sun went down, 

the horses came trooping from the surrounding plains to be 

picketed before the dwellings of their respective masters. 

Soon within the great circle of lodges appeared another con- 

10 centric circle of restless horses ; and here and there fires 
glowed and flickered amid the gloom, on the dusky figures 
around them. I went over and sat by the lodge of Reynal. 
The Eagle-Feather, who was a son of Mene-Seela, and brother 
of my host the Big Crow, was seated there already, and I 

15 asked him if the village would move in the morning. He 
shook his head, and said, that nobody could tell, for since old 
Mahto-Tatonka had died, the people had been like children 
that did not know their own minds. They were no better 
than a body without a head. So I, as well as the Indians 

20 themselves, fell asleep that night without knowing whether 
we should set out in the morning towards the country of the 
Snakes. 

At daybreak, however, as I was coming up from the river 
after my morning's ablutions, I saw that a movement was 

25 contemplated. Some of the lodges were reduced to nothing 
but bare skeletons of poles ; the leather covering of others 
was flapping in the wind as the squaws pulled it off. One 
or two chiefs of note had resolved, it seemed, on moving ; 
and so having set their squaws at work, the example was 

30 followed by the rest of the village. One by one the lodges 
were sinking down in rapid succession, and where the great 
circle of the village had been only a few moments before, 
nothing now remained but a ring of horses and Indians, 
crowded in confusion together. The ruins of the lodges were 
spread over the ground, together with kettles, stone mallets, 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 183 

great ladles of horn, buffalo-robes, and cases of painted hide, 
filled with dried meat. Squaws bustled about in busy prep- 
aration, the old hags screaming to one another at the stretch 
of their leathern lungs. The shaggy horses were patiently 
standing while the lodge-poles were lashed to their sides, 5 
and the baggage piled upon -their backs. The dogs, with 
tongues lolling out, lay lazily panting, and waiting for the 
time of departure. Each warrior sat on the ground by the 
decaying embers of his fire, unmoved amid the confusion, 
holding in his hand the long trail-rope of his horse. 10 

As their preparations were completed, each family moved 
off the ground. The crowd was rapidly melting away. I 
could see them crossing the river, and passing in quick suc- 
cession along the profile of the hill on the farther side. 
When all were gone, I mounted and set out after them, 15 
followed by Raymond, and, as we gained the summit, the 
whole village came in view at once, straggling away for a 
mile or more over the barren plains before us. Everywhere 
glittered the iron points of lances. The sun never shone 
upon a more strange array. Here were the heavy-laden 20 
pack-horses, some wretched old woman leading them, and two 
or three children clinging to their backs. Here were mules 
or ponies covered from head to tail with gaudy trappings, 
and mounted by some gay young squaw, grinning bashful- 
ness and pleasure as the ^leneaska looked at her. Boys with 25 
miniature bows and arrows wandered over the plains, little 
naked children ran along on foot, and numberless dogs 
scampered among the feet of the horses. The young braves, 
gaudy with paint and feathers, rode in groups among the 
crowd, often galloping, two or three at once along the line, 30 
to try the speed of their horses. Here and there you might 
see a rank of sturdy pedestrians stalking along in their 
white buffalo-robes. These were the dignitaries of the 
village, the old men and warriors, to whose age and experi- 
ence that wandering democracy yielded a silent deference. 



184 THE OREGON TRAIL 

With the rough prairie and the broken hills for its back- 
ground, the restless scene was striking and picturesque be- 
yond description. Days and weeks made me familiar with 
it, but never impaired its effect upon my fancy. 

5 As we moved on, the broken column grew yet more 
scattered and disorderly, until, as we approached the foot 
of a hill, I saw the old men before mentioned seating them- 
selves in a line upon the ground, in advance of the whole. 
They lighted a pipe and sat smoking, laughing, and telling 

10 stories, while the people, stopping as they successively came 
up, were soon gathered in a crowd behind them. Then the 
old men rose, drew their buffalo-robes over their shoulders, 
and strode on as before. Gaining the top of the hill, we 
found a steep declivity before us. There was not a minute's 

15 pause. The whole descended in a mass, amid dust and con- 
fusion. The horses braced their feet as they slid down, 
women and children screamed, dogs yelped as they were 
trodden upon, while stones and earth went rolling to the 
bottom. In a few moments I could see the village from the 

20 summit, spreading again far and wide over the plain below. 
At our encampment that afternoon I was attacked anew 
by my old disorder. In half an hour the strength that I had 
been gaining for a week past had vanished again, and I be- 
came like a man in a dream. But at sunset I lay down in the 

25 Big Crow's lodge and slept, totally unconscious till the morn- 
ing. The first thing that awakened me was a hoarse flapj^ing 
over my head, and a sudden light that poured in upon me. 
The camp was breaking up, and the squaws were moving 
the covering from the lodge. I arose and shook off my 

30 blanket with the feeling of perfect health ; but scarcely had 
I gained my feet when a sense of my helpless condition was 
once more forced upon me, and I found myself scarcely able 
to stand. Raymond had brought up Pauline and the mule, 
and I stooped to raise my saddle from the ground. My 
strength was unequal to the task. " You must saddle her," 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 185 

said I to Raymond, as I sat down again on a pile of buffalo- 
robes. He did so, and with a painful effort I mounted. As 
we were passing over a great plain, surrounded by long 
broken ridges, I rode slowly in advance of the Indians with 
thoughts that wandered far from the time and the place. 5 
Suddenly the sky darkened, and thunder began to mutter. 
Clouds were rising over the hills, as dark as the first fore- 
bodings of an approaching calamity ; and in a moment all 
around was wrapped in shadow. I looked behind. The 
Indians had stopped to prepare for the approaching storm, 10 
and the dense mass of savages stretched far to the right and 
left. Since the first attack of my disorder the effects of rain 
upon me had usually been injurious in the extreme. I had 
no strength to spare, having at that moment scarcely enough 
to keep my seat on horseback. Then, for the first time, it 15 
pressed upon me as a strong probability that I might never 
leave those deserts. " Well," thought I to myself, '' the 
prairie makes quick and sharp work. Better to die here, in 
the saddle to the last, than to stifle in the hot air of a sick 
chamber ; and a thousand times better than to drag out life, as 20 
many have done, in the helpless inaction of lingering disease." 
So, drawing the buffalo-robe on which I sat, over my head, 
I waited till the storm should come. It broke at last with a 
sudden burst of fury, and passing away as rapidly as it 
came, left the sky clear again. My reflections served me no 25 
other purpose than to look back upon as a piece of curious 
experience ; for the rain did not produce the ill effects that 
I had expected. We encamped within an hour. Having no 
change of clothes, I contrived to borrow a curious kind of 
substitute from Reynal ; and this done, I went home — that 30 
is, to the Big Crow's lodge — to make the entire transfer 
that was necessary. Half a dozen squaws were in the lodge, 
and one of them taking my arm held it against her own, 
while a general laugh and scream of admiration was raised 
at the contrast in the color of the skin. 



186 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Our encampment that afternoon was not far from a spur 
of the Black Hills, whose ridges, bristling with fir-trees, 
rose from the plains a mile or two on our right. That they 
might move more rapidly towards their proposed hunting- 

5 grounds, the Indians determined to leave at this place their 
stock of dried meat and other superfluous articles. Some 
left even their lodges, and contented themselves with carry- 
ing a few hides to make a shelter from the sun and rain. 
Half the inhabitants set out in the afternoon, with loaded 

10 pack-horses, towards the mountains. Here they suspended 
the dried meat upon trees, where the wolves and grizzly 
bears could not get at it. All returned at evening. Some of 
the young men declared that they had heard the reports of 
guns among the mountains to the eastward, and many sur- 

15 mises were thrown out as to the origin of these sounds. 
For my part, I was in hopes that Shaw and Henry Chatillon 
were coming to join us. I little suspected that at that very 
moment my unlucky comrade was lying on a buffalo-robe at 
Fort Laramie, fevered with ivy poison, and solacing his 

20 woes with tobacco and Shakespeare. 

As we moved over the plains on the next morning, several 
young men rode about the country as scouts ; and at length 
we began to see them occasionally on the tops of the hills, 
shaking their robes as a signal that they saw buffalo. Soon 

25 after, some bulls came in sight. Horsemen darted away in 

pursuit, and we could see from the distance that one or two of 

the buffalo were killed. Raymond suddenly became inspired. 

" This is the country for me ! " he said ; " if I could only 

carry the buffalo that are killed here every month down to 

30 St. Louis, I 'd make my fortune in one winter ; I 'd grow as 
rich as old Papin, or IMackenzie either. I call this the poor 
man's market. When I 'm hungry, I 've only got to take my 
. rifle and go out and get better meat than the rich folks down 
below can get, with all their money. You won't catch me 
living in St. Louis another winter." 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 187 

'' No," said Reynal, '' you had better say that, after you 
and your Spanish woman ahnost starved to death there. 
What a fool you were ever to take her to the settlements ! " 

'' Your Spanish woman ? " said I ; " I never heard of her 
before. Are you married to her ? " 5 

'' No," answered Raymond ; " the priests don't marry their 
women, and why should I marry mine ? " 

This honorable mention of the Mexican clergy introduced 
the subject of religion, and I found that my two associates, 
in common with other white men in that country, were as 10 
indifferent to their future welfare as men whose lives are in 
constant peril are apt to be. Raymond had never heard of 
the Pope. A certain bishop, who lived at Taos or at Santa 
Fe, embodied his loftiest idea of an ecclesiastical dignitary. 
Reynal observed that a priest had been at Fort Laramie two 15 
years ago, on his way to the Nez Perce mission, and that 
he had confessed all the men there, and given them absolu- 
tion. '' I got a good clearing out myself, that time," said 
Reynal ; '' and I reckon that will do for me till I go down 
to the settlements again." 20 

Here he interrupted himself with an oath, and exclaimed, 
" Look ! look ! The Panther is running an antelope ! " 

The Panther, on his black-and-white horse, one of the 
best in the village, came at full speed over the hill in hot 
pursuit of an antelope, that darted away like lightning be- 25 
fore him. The attempt was made in mere sport and bravado, 
for very few are the horses that can for a moment compete 
in swiftness with this little animal. The antelope ran down 
the hill towards the main body of the Indians, who were 
moving over the plain below. Sharp yells were given, and 30 
horsemen galloped out to intercept his flight. At this he 
turned sharply to the left, and scoured away with such 
speed that he distanced all his pursuers, even the vaunted 
horse of the Panther himself. A few moments after, we 
witnessed a more serious sport. A shaggy buffalo-bull 



188 THE OREGON TRAIL 

bounded out from a neighboring hollow, and close behind 
him came a slender Indian boy, riding without stirrups or 
saddle, and lashing his eager little horse to full speed. Yard 
after yard he drew closer to his gigantic victim, though the 

5 bull, with his short tail erect and his tongue lolling out a 
foot from his foaming jaws, was straining his unwieldy 
strength to the utmost. A moment more, and the boy was 
close alongside. It was our friend the Hail-Storm. He 
dropped the rein on his horse's neck, and jerked an arrow 

10 like lightning from the quiver at his shoulder. 

" I tell you," said Reynal, " that in a year's time that 
boy will match the best hunter in the village. There, he 
has given it to him ! — and there goes another ! You feel 
well, now, old bull, don't you, with two arrows stuck in 

15 your lights ! There, he has given him another ! Hear how 
the Hail-Storm yells when he shoots ! Yes, jump at him ; 
try it again, old fellow ! You may jump all day before you 
get your horns into that pony ! " 

The bull sprang again and again at his assailant, but the 

20 horse kept dodging with wonderful celerity. At length 
the bull followed up his attack with a furious rush, and the 
Hail-Storm was put to flight, the shaggy monster following 
close behind. The boy clung in his seat like a leech, and 
secure in the speed of his little pony, looked round towards 

25 us and laughed. In a moment he was again alongside the 
bull, who was now driven to desperation. His eyeballs 
glared through his tangled mane, and the blood flew from 
his mouth and nostrils. Thus, still battling with each other, 
the two enemies disappeared over the hill. 

30 Many of the Indians rode at full gallop towards the spot. 
We followed at a more moderate pace, and soon saw the 
bull lying dead on the side of the hill. The Indians were 
gathered around him, and several knives were already at 
work. These little instruments were plied with such wonder- 
ful address that the twisted sinews were cut apart, the 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 189 

ponderous bones fell asunder as if by magic, and in a moment 
the vast carcass was reduced to a heap of bloody ruins. 
The surrounding group of savages offered no very attrac- 
tive spectacle to a civilized eye. Some were cracking the 
huge thigh-bones and devouring the marrow within ; others 5 
were cutting away pieces of the liver, and other approved 
morsels, and swallowing them on the spot with the appetite 
of wolves. The faces of most of them, besmeared with blood 
from ear to ear, looked grim and horrible enough. My friend 
the White Shield proffered me a marrow-bone, so skilfully lo 
laid open that all the rich substance within was exposed to 
view at once. Another Indian held out a large piece of the 
delicate lining of the paunch ; but these courteous offerings 
I begged leave to decline. I noticed one little boy who was 
very busy with his knife about the jaws and throat of the 15 
buffalo, from which he extracted some morsel of peculiar 
delicacy. It is but fair to say, that only certain parts of the 
animal are considered eligible in these extempore banquets. 
We encamped that night, and marched westward through 
the greater part of the following day. On the next morning 20 
we again resumed our journey. It was the seventeenth of 
July, unless my note-book misleads me. At noon we stopped 
by some pools of rain-water, and in the afternoon again set 
forward. This double movement was contrary to the usual 
practice of the Indians, but all were very anxious to reach 25 
the hunting-ground, kill the necessary number of buffalo, 
and retreat as soon as possible from the dangerous neighbor- 
hood. I pass by for the present some curious incidents that 
occurred during these marches and encampments. Late in 
the afternoon of the last-mentioned day we came upon the 30 
banks of a little sandy stream, of which the Indians could 
not tell the name ; for they were very ill acquainted with 
that part of the country. So parched and arid were the 
prairies around, that they could not supply grass enough 
for the horses to feed upon, and we were compelled to move 



190 THE OREGON TRAIL 

farther and farther up the stream in search of ground for 
encampment. The country was much wilder than before. 
The plains were gashed with ravines and broken into hol- 
lows and steep declivities, which flanked our course, as, in 

5 long scattered array, the Indians advanced up the side of 
the stream. Mene-Seela consulted an extraordinary oracle 
to instruct him where the buffalo were to be found. When 
he with the other chiefs sat down on the grass to smoke and 
converse, as they often did during the march, the old man 

10 picked up one of those enormous black and green crickets, 
which the Dahcotah call by a name that signifies, " They 
who point out the buffalo." The " Root-Diggers," a wretched 
tribe beyond the mountains, turn them to good account 
by making them into a sort of soup, pronounced by certain 

15 unscrupulous trappers to be extremely rich. Holding the 
bloated insect respectfully between his fingers and thumb, 
the old Indian looked attentively at him and inquired, 
" Tell me, my father, where must we go to-morrow to find 
the buffalo ? " The cricket twisted about his long horns in 

20 evident embarrassment. At last he pointed, or seemed to 
point, them westward. Mene-Seela, dropping him gently on 
the grass, laughed with great glee, and said that if we went 
that way in the morning we should be sure to kill plenty 
of game. 

25 Towards evening we came upon a fresh green meadow, 
traversed by the stream, and deep set among tall sterile 
bluffs. The Indians descended its steep bank ; and as I was 
at the rear, I was one of the last to reach this point. Lances 
were glittering, feathers fluttering, and the water below me 

30 was crowded with men and horses passing through, while 
the meadow beyond swarmed with the restless crowd of 
Indians. The sun was just setting, and poured its softened 
light upon them through an opening in the hills. 

I remarked to Reynal that at last we had found a good 
'camping-ground. 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE 191 

"Oh, it's very good," replied he, ironically, "especially 
if there is a Snake war-party about, and they take it into 
their heads to shoot down at us from the top of these hills. 
It's no plan of mine, 'camping in such a hole as this." 

The Indians also seemed anxious. High up on the top of 5 
the tallest bluff, conspicuous in the bright evening sunlight, 
sat a naked warrior on horseback, looking around over the 
neighboring country ; and Eaymond told me that many of 
the young men had gone out in different directions as scouts. 

The shadows had reached to the very summit of the bluffs lo 
before the lodges were erected, and the village reduced again 
to quiet and order. A cry was suddenly raised, and men, 
women, and children came running out with animated faces, 
and looked eagerly through the opening in the hills by 
which the stream entered from the westward. I could dis- 15 
cern afar off some dark, heavy masses, passing over the sides 
of a low hill. They disappeared, and then others followed. 
These were bands of buffalo-cows. The hunting-ground was 
reached at last, and everything promised well for the mor- 
row's chase. Being fatigued and exhausted, I lay down in 20 
Kongra-Tonga's lodge, when Raymond thrust in his head, 
and called upon me to come and see some sport. A number 
of Indians were gathered, laughing, along the line of lodges 
on the western side of the village, and at some distance, I 
could plainly see in the twilight two huge black monsters 25 
stalking, heavily and solemnly, directly towards us. They 
were buffalo-bulls. The wind blew from them to the village, 
and such was their blindness and stupidity that they were 
advancing upon the enemy without the least consciousness 
of his presence. Raymond told me that two young men had 30 
hidden themselves with guns in a ravine about twenty yards 
in front of us. The two bulls walked slowly on, heavily 
swinging from side to side in their peculiar gait of stupid 
dignity. They approached within four or five rods of the 
ravine where the Indians lay in ambush. Here at last they 



192 THE OREGON TRAIL 

seemed conscious that something was wrong, for they both 
stopped and stood perfectly still, without looking either to 
the right or to the left. Nothing of them was to be seen 
but two black masses of shaggy mane, with horns, eyes, and 
5 nose in the centre, and a part of hoofs visible at the bottom. 
At last the more intelligent of them seemed to have concluded 
that it was time to retire. Very slowly, and with an air of 
the gravest and most majestic deliberation, he began to turn 
round, as if he were revolving on a pivot. Little by little 

10 his ugly brown side was exposed to view. A white smoke 
sprang out, as it were from the ground; a sharp report 
came with it. The old bull gave a very undignified jump, 
and galloped off. At this his comrade wheeled about with 
considerable expedition. The other Indian shot at him from 

15 the ravine, and then both the bulls ran away at full speed, 
Avhile half the juvenile population of the village raised a 
yell and ran after them. The first bull soon stopped, and 
while the crowd stood looking at him at a respectful dis- 
tance, he reeled and rolled over on his side. The other, 

20 wounded in a less vital part, galloped away to the hills 
and escaped. 

In half an hour it was totally dark. I lay down to sleep, 
and ill as I was, there was something very animating in the 
prospect of the general hunt that was to take place on the 

25 morrow. 



CHAPTER XV 
THE HUNTING CAMP 

Long before daybreak the Indians broke up their camp. 
The women of Mene-Seela's lodge were as usual among the 
first that were ready for departure, and I found the old man 
himself sitting by the embers of the decayed fire, over which 
he was warming his withered fingers, as the morning was 5 
very chill and damp. The preparations for moving were 
even more confused and disorderly than usual. While some 
families were leaving the ground, the lodges of others were 
still standing untouched. At this old Mene-Seela grew impa- 
tient, and walking out to the middle of the village, he stood lo 
with his robe wrapped close around him, and harangued the 
people in a loud, sharp voice. Now, he said, when they 
were on an enemy's hunting-grounds, was not the time to 
behave like children ; they ought to be more active and 
united than ever. His speech had some effect. The delin- 15 
quents took down their lodges and loaded their pack-horses ; 
and when the sun rose, the last of the men, women, and 
children had left the deserted camp. 

This movement was made merely for the purpose of find- 
ing a better and safer position. So we advanced only three 20 
or four miles up the little stream, when each family assumed 
its relative place in the great ring of the village, and the 
squaws set actively at work in preparing the camp. But not 
a single warrior dismounted from his horse. All the men 
that morning were mounted on inferior animals, leading 25 
their best horses by a cord, or confiding them to the care of 
boys. In small parties they began to leave the ground and 
ride rapidly away over the plains to the westward. I had 

19.3 



194 THE OREGON TRAIL 

taken no food, and not being at all ambitious of farther ab- 
stinence, I went into my host's lodge, which his squaws had 
set up with wonderful despatch, and sat down in the centre, 
as a gentle hint that I was hungry. A wooden bowl was 

5 soon set before me, filled with the nutritious preparation of 
dried meat, called 2^emmican by the northern voyagers, and 
tvasna by the Dahcotah. Taking a handful to break my fast 
upon, I left the lodge just in time to see the last band of 
hunters disappear over the ridge of the neighboring hill. I 

10 mounted Pauline and galloped in pursuit, riding rather by 
the balance than by any muscular strength that remained to 
me. From the top of the hill I could overlook a wide extent 
of desolate prairie, over which, far and near, little parties of 
naked horsemen were rapidly passing. I soon came up to 

15 the nearest, and we had not ridden a mile before all were 
united into one large and compact body. All was haste and 
eagerness. Each hunter whipped on his horse, as if anxious 
to be the first to reach the game. In such movements among 
the Indians this is always more or less the case ; but it was 

20 especially so in the present instance, because the head chief 
of the village was absent, and there were but few " soldiers," 
a sort of Indian police, who among their other functions 
usually assume the direction of a buffalo hunt. No man 
turned to the right hand or to the left. We rode at a swift 

25 canter straight forward, up hill and down hill, and through 
the stiff, obstinate growth of the endless wild-sage bushes. 
For an hour and a half the same red shoulders, the same 
long black hair, rose and fell with the motion of the horses 
before me. Very little was said, though once I observed an 

30 old man severely rejDroving Eaymond for having left his 
rifle behind him, when there was some probability of encoun- 
tering an enemy before the day was over. As we galloped 
across a plain thickly set with sage-bushes, the foremost 
riders vanished suddenly from sight, as if diving into the 
earth. The arid soil was cracked into a deep ravine. Down 



THE HUNTING CAMP 195 

we all went in succession and galloped in a line along the 
bottom, until we found a point where, one by one, the horses 
could scramble out. Soon after, we came upon a wide shal- 
low stream, and as we rode swiftly over the hard sand-beds 
and through the thin sheets of rippling water, many of the 5 
savage horsemen threw themselves to the ground, knelt on 
the sand, snatched a hasty draught, and leaping back again 
to their seats, galloped on as before. 

Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party ; and now 
we beg'an to see them on the ridges of the hills, waving their lo 
robes in token that buffalo were visible. These, however, 
proved to be nothing more than old straggling bulls, feeding 
upon the neighboring plains, who would stare for a moment 
at the hostile array and then gallop clumsily off. At length 
we could discern several of these scouts making their signals 15 
to us at once ; no longer waving their robes boldly from the 
top of the hill, but standing lower down, so that they could 
not be seen from the plains beyond. Game worth pursuing 
had evidently been discovered. The excited Indians now 
urged forward their tired horses even more rapidly than 20 
before. Pauline, who was still sick and jaded, began to 
groan heavily ; and her yellow sides were darkened with 
sweat. As we were crowding together over a lower inter- 
vening hill, I heard Reynal and Raymond shouting to me 
from the left; and, looking in that direction, I saw them 25 
riding away behind a part}^ of about twenty mean-looking 
Indians. These were the relatives of Reynal's squaw. Mar- 
got, who, not wishing to take part in the general hunt, were 
riding towards a distant hollow, where they saw a small 
band of buffalo which they meant to appropriate to them- 30 
selves. I answered to the call by ordering Raymond to turn 
back and follow me. He reluctantly obeyed, though Reynal, 
who had relied on his assistance in skinning, cutting up, 
and carrying to camp the buffalo that he and his party 
should kill, loudly protested, and declared that we should 



196 THE OREGON TRAIL 

see no sport if we went with the rest of the Indians. Fol- 
lowed by Kaymond, I pursued the main body of hunters, 
while Reynal, in a great rage, whipped his horse over the 
hill after his ragamuffin relatives. The Indians, stilh about 

5 a hundred in number, galloped in a dense body at some dis- 
tance in advance, a cloud of dust flying in the wind behind 
them. I could not overtake them until they had stopped on 
the side of the hill where the scouts were standing. Here 
each hunter sprang in haste from the tired animal he had 

10 ridden, and leaped upon the fresh horse he had brought with 
him. There was not a saddle or a bridle in the whole party. 
A piece of buffalo-robe, girthed over the horse's back, served 
in the place of the one, and a cord of twisted hair, lashed 
round his lower jaw, answered for the other. Eagle feathers 

15 dangled from every mane and tail, as marks of courage and 
speed. As for the rider, he wore no other clothing than a 
light cincture at his waist, and a pair of moccasons. He had 
a heavy whip, with a handle of solid elk-horn, and a lash of 
knotted bull-hide, fastened to his wrist by a band. His bow 

20 was in his hand, and his quiver of otter or panther skin 
hung at his shoulder. Thus equipped, some thirty of the 
hunters galloped away towards the left, in order to make a 
circuit under cover of the hills, that the buffalo might be 
assailed on both sides at once. The rest impatiently waited 

25 until time enough had elapsed for their companions to reach 
the required position. Then riding upward in a body, we 
gained the ridge of the hill, and for the first time came in 
sight of the buffalo on the plain beyond. 

They were a band of cows, four or five hundred in number, 

30 crowded together near the bank of a wide stream that was 
soaking across the sand-beds of the valley. This valley was 
a large circular basin, sun-scorched and broken, scantily 
covered with herbage, and surrounded with high barren hills, 
from an opening in which we could see our allies galloping 
out upon the plain. The wind blew from that direction. 



THE HUNTING CAMP 197 

The buffalo, aware of their approach, had begun to move, 
though very slowly and in a compact mass. I have no far- 
ther recollection of seeing the game until we were in the 
midst of them, for as we rode down the hill other objects 
engrossed my attention. Numerous old bulls were scattered 5 
over the plain, and, ungallantly deserting their charge at 
our approach, began to wade and plunge through the quick- 
sands of the stream, and gallop away towards the hills. 
One old veteran was straggling behind the rest, with one 
of his fore-legs, which had been broken by some accident, lo 
dangling about uselessly. His appearance, as he went sham- 
bling along on three legs, was so ludicrous that I could not 
help pausing for a moment to look at him. As I came near, 
he would try to rush upon me, nearly throwing himself 
down at every awkward attempt. Looking up, I saw the 15 
whole body of Indians full an hundred yards in advance. I 
lashed Pauline in pursuit and reached them just in time ; 
for, at that moment, each hunter, as if by a common im- 
pulse, violently struck his horse, each horse sprang forward, 
and, scattering in the charge in order to assail the entire 20 
herd at once, we all rushed headlong upon the buffalo. We 
were among them in an instant. Amid the trampling and 
the yells I could see their dark figures running hither and 
thither through clouds of dust, and the horsemen darting in 
pursuit. While we were charging on one side, our compan- 25 
ions attacked the bewildered and panic-stricken herd on the 
other. The uproar and confusion lasted but a moment. The 
dust cleared away, and the buffalo could be seen scattering 
as from a common centre, flying over the plain singly, or in 
long files and small compact bodies, while behind them 30 
followed the Indians, riding at furious speed, and yelling as 
they launched arrow after arrow into their sides. The car- 
casses were strewn thickly over the ground. Here and there 
stood wounded buffalo, their bleeding sides feathered with 
arrows ; and as I rode by them their eyes would glare, they 



198 thp: oregox trail 

would bristle like gigantic eats, and feebly attempt to rush 
up and gore my horse. 

I left camp that morning with a philosophic resolution. 
Neither I nor my horse were at that time fit for such sport, 
5 and I had determined to remain a quiet spectator ; but amid 
the rush of horses and buffalo, the uproar and the dust, I found 
it impossible to sit still ; and as four or live buffalo ran past 
me in a line, I lashed Pauline in pursuit. We went plung- 
ing through the water and the quicksands, and clambering 

10 the bank, chased them through the wild-sage bushes that 
covered the rising ground beyond. But neither her native 
spirit nor the blows of the knotted bull-hide could supply 
the place of poor Pauline's exhausted strength. We could 
not gain an inch upon the fugitives. At last, however, they 

15 came full upon a ravine too wide to leap over; and as this' 
compelled them to turn abruptly to the left, I contrived to 
get within ten or twelve yards of the hindmost. At this she 
faced about, bristled angrily, and made a show of charging. 
I shot at her, and hit her somewhere in the neck. Down she 

20 tumbled into the ravine, whither her companions had de- 
scended before her. I saw their dark backs appearing and 
disappearing as they galloped along the bottom ; then, one 
by one, they scrambled out on the other side, and ran 9ff as 
before, the wounded animal following with the rest. 

25 Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his black mule 
to meet me ; and as we rode over the field together, we 
counted scores of carcasses lying on the plain, in the ravines, 
and on the sandy bed of the stream. Far away in the dis- 
tance, horsemen and buffalo were still scouring along, with 

30 clouds of dust rising behind them ; and over the sides of the 
hills long files of the frightened animals were rapidly ascend- 
ing. The hunters began to return. The boys, who had held 
the horses behind the hill, made their appearance, and the 
work of flaying and cutting up began in earnest all over the 
field. I noticed my host Kongra-Tonga beyond the stream, 



THE HUNTING CAMP 199 

just alighting by the side of a cow which he had killed. 
Kiding up to him, I found him in the act of drawing out an 
arrow, which, with the exception of the notch at the end, 
had entirely disappeared in the animal. I asked him to give 
it to me, and I still retain it as a proof, though by no means 5 
the most striking one that could be offered, of the force and 
dexterity with which the Indians discharge their arrows. 

The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, and the 
hunters began to leave the ground. Raymond and I, too, 
getting tired of the scene, set out for the village, riding lo 
straight across the intervening desert. There was no path, 
and as far as I could see, no landmarks sufficient to guide 
us ; but Raymond seemed to have an instinctive perception 
of the point on the horizon towards which we ought to direct 
our course. Antelope were bounding on all sides, and as is 15 
always the case in the presence of buffalo, they seemed to 
have lost their natural shyness. Bands of them would run 
lightly up the rocky declivities, and stand gazing down upon 
us from the summit. At length we could distinguish the tall 
white rocks and the old pine-trees that, as we well remem- 20 
bered, were just above the site of the encampment. Still we 
could see nothing of the camp itself, until, mounting a grassy 
hill, we saw the circle of lodges, dingy with storms and 
smoke, standing on the plain at our feet. 

I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw instantly 25 
brought me food and water, and spread a buffalo-robe for 
me to lie upon ; and being much fatigued, I lay down and 
fell asleep. In about an hour, the entrance of Kongra-Tonga, 
with his arms smeared with blood to the elbows, awoke me ; 
he sat down in his usual seat, on the left side of the lodge. 30 
His squaw gave him a vessel of water for washing, set be- 
fore him a bowl of boiled meat, and, as he was eating, 
pulled off his bloody moccasons and placed fresh ones on 
his feet ; then outstretching his limbs, my host composed 
himself to sleep. 



200 THE OREGON TRAIL 

And now the hunters, two or three at a time, came rapidly 
in, and each consigning his horses to the squaws, entered 
his lodge with the air of a man whose day's work was done. 
The squaws flung down the load from the burdened horses, 
5 and vast piles of meat and hides were soon gathered before 
every lodge. By this time it was darkening fast, and the 
whole village was illumined by the glare of fires. All the 
squaws and children were gathered about the piles of meat, 
exploring them in search of the daintiest portions. Some of 

10 these they roasted on sticks before the fires, but often they 
dispensed with this superfluous operation. Late into the 
night the fires were still glowing upon the groups of feasters 
engaged in this savage banquet around them. 

Several hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra-Tonga's 

15 lodge to talk over the day's exploits. Among the rest, 
Mene-Seela came in. Though he must have seen full eighty 
winters, he had taken an active share in the day's sport. 
He boasted that he had killed two cows that morning, and 
would have killed a third if the dust had not blinded him so 

20 that he had to drop his bow and arrows and press both hands 
against his eyes to stop the pain. The firelight fell upon his 
wrinkled face and shrivelled figure as he sat telling his story 
with such inimitable gesticulation that every man in the 
lodge broke into a laugh. 

25 Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in the village 
with whom I would have trusted myself alone without sus- 
picion, and the only one from whom I should have received 
a gift or a service without the certainty that it proceeded 
from an interested motive. He was a great friend to the 

30 whites. He liked to be in their society, and was very vain 
of the favors he had received from them. He told me one 
afternoon, as we were sitting together in his son's lodge, 
that he considered the beaver and the whites the wisest 
people on earth ; indeed, he was convinced they were the 
same ; and an incident which had happened to him long 



THE HUNTING CAMP 201 

before had assured him of this. So he began the following- 
story, and as the pipe passed in turn to him, Reynal availed 
himself of these interruptions to translate what had pre- 
ceded. But the old man accompanied his words with such 
admirable pantomime that translation was hardly necessary. 5 

He said that when he was very young, and had never yet 
seen a white man, he and three or four of his companions 
were out on a beaver hunt, and he crawled into a large 
beaver-lodge, to see what was there. Sometimes he crept on 
his hands and knees, sometimes he was obliged to swim, and lo 
sometimes to lie flat on his face and drag himself along. In 
this way he crawled a great distance under ground. It was 
very dark, cold, and close, so that at last he was almost 
suffocated, and fell into a swoon. When he began to recover, 
he could just distinguish the voices of his companions out- 15 
side, who had given him up for lost, and were singing his 
death-song. At first he could see nothing, but soon dis- 
cerned something white before him, and at length plainly 
distinguished three people, entirely white, one man and two 
women, sitting at the edge of a black pool of water. He be- 20 
came alarmed, and thought it high time to retreat. Having 
succeeded, after great trouble, in reaching daylight again, he 
went to the spot directly above the pool of water where he 
had seen the three mysterious beings. Here he beat a hole 
with his war-club in the ground, and sat down to watch. In 25 
a moment the nose of an old male beaver appeared at the 
opening. Mene-Seela instantly seized him and dragged him 
up, when two other beavers, both females, thrust out their 
heads, and these he served in the same way. '' These," said 
the old man, concluding his story, for which he was proba- 30 
bly indebted to a dream, " must have been the three white 
people whom I saw sitting at the edge of the water." 

Mene-Seela was the grand depositary of the legends and 
traditions of the village. I succeeded, however, in getting 
from him only a few fragments. Like all Indians, he was 



202 THE OREGON TRAIL 

excessively superstitious, and continually saw some reason 
for withholding his stories. " It is a bad thing," he would 
say, '' to tell the tales in summer. Stay with us till next 
winter, and I will tell you everything I know ; but now our 

5 war-parties are going out, and our young men will be killed 
if I sit down to tell stories before the frost begins." 

But to leave this digression. We remained encamped on 
this spot five days, during three of which the hunters were 
at work incessantly, and immense quantities of meat and 

10 hides were brought in. Great alarm, however, prevailed in 
the village. All were on the alert. The young men ranged 
the country as scouts, and the old men paid careful atten- 
tion to omens and prodigies, and especially to their dreams. 
In order to convey to the enemy (who, if they were in the 

15 neighborhood, must inevitably have known of our presence) 
the impression that we were constantly on the watch, piles 
of sticks and stones were erected on all the surrounding 
hills, in such a manner as to appear at a distance like senti- 
nels. Often, even to this hour, that scene will rise before 

20 my mind like a visible reality : the tall white rocks ; the old 
pine-trees on their summits ; the sandy stream that ran 
along their bases and half encircled the village ; and the 
wild-sage bushes, with their dull green hue and their me- 
dicinal odor, that covered all the neighboring declivities. 

25 Hour after hour the squaws would pass and repass with 
their vessels of water between the stream and the lodges. 
For the most part, no one was to be seen in the camp 
but women and children, two or three superannuated old 
men, and a few lazy and worthless young ones. These, to- 

30 gether with the dogs, now grown fat and good-natured with 
the abundance in the camp, were its only tenants. Still it 
presented a busy and bustling scene. In all quarters the 
meat, hung on cords of hide, was drying in the sun, and 
around the lodges, the squaws, young and old, were laboring 
on the fresh hides stretched upon the ground, scraping the 



THE HUNTING CAMP 203 

hair from one side and the still adhering flesh from the other, 
and rubbing into them the brains of the buffalo, in order to 
render them soft and pliant. 

In mercy to myself and my horse, I did not go out with 
the hunters after the first day. Of late, however, I had been 5 
gaining strength rapidly, as was always the case upon every 
respite of my disorder. I was soon able to walk with ease. 
Raymond and I would go out upon the neighboring prairies 
to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail straggling buffalo, 
on foot ; an attempt in which we met with rather indiffer- lo 
ent success. As I came out of Kongra-Tonga's lodge one 
morning, Reynal called to me from the opposite side of the 
village, and asked me over to breakfast. The breakfast was 
a substantial one. It consisted of the rich, juicy hump-ribs 
of a fat cow ; a repast absolutely unrivalled in its way. It 15 
was roasting before the fire, impaled upon a stout stick, 
which Reynal took up and planted in the ground before his 
lodge ; when he, with Raymond and myself, taking our seats 
around it, unsheathed our knives and assailed it with good 
will. In spite of all medical experience, this solid fare, with- 20 
out bread or salt, seemed to agree with me admirably. 

'' We shall have strangers here before night," said Reynal. 

" How do you know that ? " I asked. 

" I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an Indian. 
There 's the Hail-Storm ; he dreamed the same thing, and he 25 
and his crony. The Rabbit, have gone out on disco ver}^" 

I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my 
host's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a mile or two 
on the prairie, saw an old bull standing alone, crawled up 
a ravine, shot him, and saw him escape. Then, exhausted 30 
and rather ill-humored, I walked back to the village. By a 
strange coincidence, Reynal's prediction had been verified ; 
for the first persons whom I saw were the two trappers. 
Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet me. These men, as 
the reader may possibly recollect, had left our party about 



204 THE orp:gox trail 

a fortnight before. They had been trapping among the 
Black Hills, and were now on their way to the Rocky 
Mountains, intending in a day or two to set out for the 
neighboring Medicine Bow, They were not the most elegant 

5 or refined of companions, yet they made a very welcome 
addition to the limited society of the village. Eor the rest 
of that day we lay smoking and talking in Reynal's lodge. 
This indeed was no better than a hut, made of hides stretched 
on poles, and entirely open in front. It was well carpeted 

10 with soft buffalo-robes, and here we remained, sheltered from 
the sun, surrounded by the domestic utensils of Madame 
Margot's household. All was quiet in the village. Though 
the hunters had not gone out that day, they lay sleeping in 
their lodges, and most of the women were silently engaged 

15 in their heavy tasks. A few young men were playing at a lazy 
game of ball in the area of the village ; and when they be- 
came tired, some girls supplied their place with a more 
boisterous sport. At a little distance, among the lodges, some 
children and half-grown squaws were playfully tossing one 

20 of their number in a buffalo-robe, — an exact counterpart of 
the ancient pastime from which Sancho Panza suffered so 
much. Farther out on the prairie, a host of little naked boys 
were roaming about, engaged in various rough games, or 
pursuing birds and ground-squirrels with their bows, and 

25 arrows ; and woe to the unhappy little animals that fell into 
their merciless, torture-loving hands. A squaw from the 
next lodge, a notable housewife, named Weah Washtay, or 
the Good Woman, brought us a large bowl of ivasna, and 
went into an ecstasy of delight when I presented her with 

30 a green glass ring, such as I usually wore with a view to 
similar occasions. 

The sun went down, and half the sky was glowing fiery 
red, reflected on the little stream as it wound away among 
the sage-bushes. Some young men left the village, and soon 
returned, driving in before them all the horses, hundreds ia 



THE HUNTING CAMP 205 

number, and of every size, age, and color. The hunters came 
out, and each securing those that belonged to him, examined 
their condition, and tied them fast by long cords to stakes 
driven in front of his lodge. It was half an hour before the 
bustle subsided and tranquillity was restored again. By this 5 
time it was nearly dark. Kettles were hung over the fires, 
around which the squaws were gathered with their chil- 
dren, laughing and talking merrily. A circle of a different 
kind was formed in the centre of the village. This was com- 
posed of the old men and warriors of repute, who sat to- lo 
gether with their white buffalo-robes drawn close around 
their shoulders ; and as the pipe passed from hand to hand, 
their conversation had not a particle of the gravity and re- 
serve usually ascribed to Indians. I sat down with them as 
usual. I had in my hand half a dozen squibs and serpents, 15 
which I had made one day when encamped upon Laramie 
Creek, with gunpowder and charcoal, and the leaves of 
"Fremont's Expedition," rolled round a stout lead-pen- 
cil. I waited till I could get hold of the large j^iece of burn- 
ing hols-de-vache which the Indians kept by them on the 20 
ground for lighting their pipes. With this I lighted all the 
fireworks at once, and tossed them whizzing and sputtering 
into the air, over the heads of the company. They all 
jumped up and ran off with yelps of astonishment and con- 
sternation. After a moment or two, they ventured to come 25 
back one by one, and some of the boldest, picking up the 
cases of burnt paper, examined them with eager curiosity to 
discover their mysterious secret. From that time forward I 
enjoyed great repute as a " fire-medicine." 

The camp was filled with the low hum of cheerful voices. 30 
There were other sounds, however, of a different kind; 
for from a large lodge, lighted up like a gigantic lantern by 
the blazing lire within, came a chorus of dismal cries and 
wailings, long drawn out, like the howling of wolves, and a 
woman, almost naked, was crouching close outside, crying 



206 THE OREGON TRAIL 

violently, and gashing her legs with a knife till they were 
covered with blood. Just a year before, a young man be- 
longing to this family had been slain by the enemy, and his 
relatives were thus lamenting his loss. Still other sounds 
5 might be heard ; loud earnest cries often repeated from 
amid the gloom, at a distance beyond the village. They pro- 
ceeded from some young men who, being about to set out in 
a few days on a war-party, were standing at the top of a 
hill, calling on the Great Spirit to aid them in their enter- 

10 prise. While I was listening. Rouleau, with a laugh on his 
careless face, called me and dii^cted my attention to another 
quarter. In front of the lodge where Weah Washtay lived, 
another squaw was standing, angrily scolding an old yellow 
dog, who lay on the ground with his nose resting between 

15 his paws, and his eyes turned sleepily up to her face, as if 
pretending to give respectful attention, but resolved to fall 
asleep as soon as it was all over. 

" You ought to be ashamed of yourself ! " said the old 
woman. '' I have fed you well, and taken care of you ever 

20 since you were small and blind, and could only crawl about 
and squeal a little, instead of howling as you do now. When 
you grew old, I said you were a good dog. You were strong 
and gentle when the load was put on your back, and you 
never ran among the feet of the horses when we were all 

25 travelling together over the prairie. But you had a bad 
heart! Whenever a rabbit jumped out of the bushes, you 
were always the first to run after him and lead away all the 
other dogs behind you. Y^ou ought to have known that it 
was very dangerous to act so. When you had got far out on 

30 the prairie, and no one was near to help you, perhaps a 
wolf would jump out of the ravine ; and then what could 
you do ? You would certainly have been killed, for no dog 
can fight well with a load on his back. Only three days 
ago you ran off in that way, and turned over the bag 
of wooden pins with which I used to fasten up the front 



, THE HUNTING CAMP 207 ' 

of the lodge. Look up there, and 3-011 will see that it is 
all flapping open. And now to-night you have stolen a 
great piece of fat meat which was roasting before the fire 
for my children. I tell you, you have a bad heart, and you 
must die ! " 5 

So saying, the squaw went into the lodge, and coming out 
with a large stone mallet, killed the unfortunate dog at one 
blow. This speech is worthy of notice, as illustrating a 
curious characteristic of the Indians, who ascribe intelli- 
gence and a power of understanding speech to the inferior 10 
animals ; to whom, indeed, according to many of their tradi- 
tions, they are linked in close affinity ; and they even claim 
the honor of a lineal descent from bears, wolves, deer, or 
tortoises. 

As it grew late, I walked across the village to the lodge 15 
of my host, Kongra-Tonga. As I entered I saw him, by the 
blaze of the fire in the middle, reclining half asleep in his 
usual place. His couch was by no means an uncomfortable 
one. It consisted of buffalo-robes, laid together on the 
ground, and a pillow made of whitened deer-skin, stuffed 20 
with feathers and ornamented with beads. At his back was 
a light framework of poles and slender reeds, against which 
he could lean with ease when in a sitting posture ; and at 
the top of it, just above his head, hung his bow and quiver. 
His squaw, a laughing, broad-faced woman, apparently had 25 
not yet completed her domestic arrangements, for she was 
bustling about the lodge, pulling over the utensils and the 
bales of dried meat that were ranged carefully around it. 
Unhappily, she and her partner were not the only tenants 
of the dwelling; for half a dozen children were scattered 30 
about, sleeping in every imaginable posture. My saddle was 
in its place at the head of the lodge, and a buffalo-robe was 
spread on the ground before it. Wrapping myself in my 
blanket, I lay down ; but had I not been extremely fatigued, 
the noise in the next lodge would have prevented my 



208 THE OREGON TRAIL 

sleeping. There was the monotonous thumping of the In- 
dian drum, mixed with occasional sharp yells, and a chorus 
chanted by twenty voices. A grand scene of gambling was 
going forward with all the appropriate formalities. The 

5 players were staking on the chances of the game their orna- 
ments, their horses, and as the excitement rose, their gar- 
ments, and even their weapons ; for desperate gambling is 
not confined to the hells of Paris. The men of the plains 
and forests no less resort to it as a relief to the tedious 

10 monotony of their lives, which alternate between fierce ex- 
citement and listless inaction. I fell asleep with the dull 
notes of the drum still sounding on my ear ; but these orgies 
lasted without intermission till daylight. I was soon awak- 
ened by one of the children crawling over me, while another 

15 larger one was tugging at my blanket and nestling himself 
in a very disagreeable proximity. I immediately repelled 
these advances by punching the heads of these miniature 
savages with a short stick which I always kept by me for 
the purpose ; and as sleeping half the day and eating much 

20 more than is good for them makes them extremely restless, 
this operation usually had to be repeated four or five times 
in the course of the night. My host himself was the author 
of another formidable annoyance. All these Indians, and he 
among the rest, think themselves bound to the constant per- 

25 formance of certain acts as the condition on which their 
success in life depends, whether in war, love, hunting, or 
any other employment. These " medicines," as they are 
called, which are usually communicated in dreams, are often 
absurd enough. Some Indians will strike the butt of the 

30 pipe against the ground every time they smoke ; others will 
insist that everything they say shall be interpreted by con- 
traries ; and Shaw once met an old man who conceived that 
all would be lost unless he compelled every white man he 
met to drink a bowl of cold water. My host was particularly 
unfortunate in his allotment. The spirits had told him in a 



THE HUNTING CAMP 209 

dream that he must sing a certain song in the middle of 
every night ; and regularly at about twelve o'clock his dis- 
mal monotonous chanting would awaken me, and I would 
see him seated bolt upright on his couch, going through his 
dolorous performance with a most business-like air. There 5 
were other voices of the night, still more inharmonious. 
Twice or thrice, between sunset and dawn, all the dogs in 
the village, and there were hundreds of them, would bay and 
yelp in chorus ; a horrible clamor, resembling no sound that 
I have ever heard, except perhaps the frightful howling of lo 
wolves that we used sometimes to hear, long afterward, 
when descending the Arkansas on the trail of General 
Kearney's army. This canine uproar is, if possible, more 
discordant than that of the wolves. Heard at a distance 
slowly rising on the night, it has a strange unearthly effect, 15 
and would fearfully haunt the dreams of a nervous man ; 
but when you are sleeping in the midst of it, the din is 
outrageous. One long, loud howl begins it, and voice after 
voice takes up the sound, till it passes around the whole cir- 
cumference of the village, and the air is filled with confused 20 
and discordant cries, at once fierce and mournful. It lasts a 
few moments, and then dies away into silence. 

Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his horse, 
rode out with the hunters. It may not be amiss to glance at 
him for an instant in his character of husband and father. 25 
Both he and his squaw, like most other Indians, were very 
fond of their children, whom they indulged to excess, and 
never punished, except in extreme cases, when they would 
throw a bowl of cold water over them. Their offspring be- 
came sufficiently undutiful and disobedient under this system 30 
of education, which tends not a little to foster that wild idea 
of liberty and utter intolerance of restraint which lie at the 
foundation of the Indian character. It would be hard to find 
a fonder father than Kongra-Tonga. There was one urchin 
in particular, rather less than two feet high, to whom he 



210 THE OKEGON TRAIL 

was exceedingly attached ; and sometimes spreading a 
buffalo-robe in the lodge, he would seat himself upon it, 
place his small favorite upright before him, and chant in a 
low tone some of the words used as an accompaniment to 

5 the war-dance. The little fellow, who could just manage to 
balance himself by stretching out both arms, would lift his 
feet and turn slowly round and round in time to his father's 
music, while my host would laugh with delight, and look 
smiling up into my face to see if I were admiring this preco- 

10 cious performance of his offspring. In his capacity of hus- 
band he was less tender. The squaw who lived in the lodge 
with him had been his partner for many years. She took 
good care of his children and his household concerns. He 
liked her well enough, and as far as I could see, they never 

15 quarrelled ; but his warmer affections were reserved for 
younger and more recent favorites. Of these he had at 
present only one, who lived in a lodge apart from his own. 
One day while in this camp, he became displeased with her, 
pushed her out, threw after her her ornaments, dresses, and 

20 everything she had, and told her to go home to her father. 
Having consummated this summary divorce, for which he 
•could show good reasons, he came back, seated himself in 
his usual place, and began to smoke with an air of the utmost 
tranquillity and self-satisfaction. 

25 I was sitting in the lodge with him on that very afternoon, 
when I felt some curiosity to learn the history of the nu- 
merous scars that appeared on his naked body. Of some of 
them, however, I did not venture to inquire, for I already 
understood their origin. Each of his arms was marked as if 

30 deeply gashed with a knife at regular intervals, and there 
were other scars also, of a different character, on his back 
and on either breast. They were the traces of the tortures 
which these Indians, in common with a few other tribes, in- 
flict upon themselves at certain seasons ; in part, it may be, 
to gain the glory of courage and endurance, but chiefly as 



THE HUNTING CAMP 211 

an act of self-sacrifice to secure the favor of the spirits. The 
scars upon the breast and back were produced by running 
through the flesh strong splints of wood, to which heavy 
buffalo-skulls are fastened by cords of hide, and the wretch 
runs forward with all his strength, assisted by two compan- 5 
ions, who take hold of each arm, until the flesh tears apart 
and the skulls are left behind. Others of Kongra-Tonga's 
scars were the result of accidents ; but he had many received 
in war. He was one of the most noted warriors in the vil- 
lage. In the course of his life he had slain, as he boasted to lo 
me, fourteen men ; and though, like other Indians, he was 
a braggart and liar, yet in this statement common report 
bore him out. Being flattered by my inquiries, he told me 
tale after tale, true or false, of his warlike exploits ; and 
there was one among the rest illustrating the worst features 15 
of Indian character too well for me to omit it. Pointing out 
of the opening of the lodge towards the Medicine Bow 
Mountain, not many miles distant, he said that he was there 
a few summers ago with a war-party of his young men. 
Here they found two Snake Indians, hunting. They shot 20 
one of them with arrow^s, and chased the other up the side 
of the mountain till they surrounded him, and Kongra- 
Tonga himself, jumping forward among the trees, seized 
him by the arm. Two of his young men then ran up and 
held him fast while he scalped him alive. They then built a 25 
great fire, and cutting the tendons of their captive's wrists 
and feet, threw him in, and held him down with long poles 
until he was burnt to death. He garnished his story with 
descriptive particulars much too revolting to mention. His 
features w^ere remarkably mild and open, without the fierce- 30 
ness of expression common among these Indians ; and as he 
detailed these devilish cruelties, he looked up into my face 
with the air of earnest simplicity which a little child would 
wear in relating to its mother some anecdote of its youthful 
experience. 



212 . THE OREGON TRAIL 

Old Mene-Seela's lodge could offer another illustration of 
the ferocity of Indian warfare. A bright-eyed, active little 
boy was living there who had belonged to a village of the 
Gros-Ventre Blackfeet, a small but bloody and treacherous 
5 band, in close alliance with the Arapahoes. About a year 
before, Kongra-Tonga and a party of warriors had found 
about twenty lodges of these Indians upon the plains a little 
to the eastward of our present camp ; and surrounding them 
in the night, they butchered men, women, and children, pre- 

10 serving only this little boy alive. He was adopted into the 
old man's family, and was now fast becoming identified with 
the Ogillallah children, among whom he mingled on equal 
terms. There was also a Crow warrior in the village, a man 
of gigantic stature and most symmetrical proportions. Hav- 

15 ing been taken prisoner many years before and adopted by 
a squaw in place of a son whom she had lost, he had for- 
gotten his old nationality, and was now both in act and 
inclination an Ogillallah. 

It will be remembered that the scheme of the grand war- 

20 party against the Snake and Crow Indians originated in this 
village ; and though this plan had fallen to the ground, the 
embers of martial ardor continued to glow. Eleven young 
men had prepared to go out against the enemy, and the 
fourth day of our stay in this camp was fixed upon for their 

25 departure. At the head of this party was a well-built, active 
little Indian, called the White Shield, whom I had always 
noticed for the neatness of his dress and appearance. His 
lodge too, though not a large one, was the best in the village, 
his squaw was one of the prettiest, and altogether his dwell- 

30 ing was the model of an Ogillallah domestic establishment. 
I was often a visitor there, for the White Shield, being 
rather partial to white men, used to invite me to continual 
feasts at all hours of the day. Once, when the substantial 
part of the entertainment was over, and he and I were 
seated cross-legged on a buffalo-robe smoking together very 



THE HUNTING CAMP 213 

amicably, he took down his warlike equipments, which were 
hanging around the lodge, and displayed them with great 
pride and self-importance. Among the rest was a superb 
head-dress of feathers. Taking this from its case, he put 
it on and stood before me, perfectly conscious of the gallant 5 
air which it gave to his dark face and his vigorous, graceful 
figure. He told me that upon it were the feathers of three 
war-eagles, equal in value to the same number of good horses. 
He took up also a shield gayly painted and hung with 
feathers. The effect of these barbaric ornaments was admi- 10 
rable. His quiver was made of the spotted skin of a small 
panther, common among the Black Hills, from which the 
tail and distended claws were still allowed to hang. The 
White Shield concluded his entertainment in a manner 
characteristic of an Indian. He begged of me a little pow- 15 
der and ball, for he had a gun as well as a bow and arrows ; 
but this I was obliged to refuse, because I had scarcely 
enough for my own use. Making him, however, a parting 
present of a paper of vermilion, I left him quite contented. 

On the next morning the White Shield took cold, and was 20 
attacked with an inflammation of the throat. Immediately 
he seemed to lose all spirit, and though before no warrior in 
the village had borne himself more proudly, he now moped 
about from lodge to lodge with a forlorn and dejected air. 
At length he sat down, close wrapped in his robe, before 25 
the lodge of Reynal, but when he found that neither he 
nor I knew how to relieve him, he arose and stalked over to 
one of the medicine-men of the village. This old impostor 
thumped him for some time with both fists, howled and 
yelped over him, and beat a drum close to his ear to expel 30 
the evil spirit. This treatment failing of the desired effect, 
the White Shield withdrew to his own lodge, where he lay 
disconsolate for some hours. Making his appearance once 
more in the afternoon, he again took his seat on the ground 
before Reynal's lodge, holding his throat with his hand. 



214 THE OREGON TRAIL 

For some time he sat silent with his eyes fixed mournfully 
on the ground. At last he began to speak in a low tone. 

" I am a brave man," he said ; " all the young men think 
me a great warrior, and ten of them are ready to go with 
5 me to the war. I will go and show them the enemy. Last 
summer the Snakes killed my brother. I cannot live unless 
I revenge his death. To-morrow we will set out and I will 
take their scalps." 

The White Shield, as he expressed this resolution, seemed 
10 to have lost all the accustomed fire and spirit of his look, 
and hung his head as if in a fit of despondency. 

As I was sitting that evening at one of the fires, I saw 
him arrayed in his splendid war-dress, his cheeks painted 
with vermilion, leading his favorite war-horse to the front 
15 of his lodge. He mounted and rode round the village, sing- 
ing his war-song in a loud, hoarse voice amid the shrill ac- 
clamations of the women. Then dismounting, he remained 
for some minutes prostrate upon the ground, as if in an act 
of supplication. On the following morning I looked in vain 
20 for the departure of the warriors. All was quiet in the vil- 
lage until late in the forenoon, when the White Shield came 
and seated himself in his old place before us. Keynal asked 
him why he had not gone out to find the enemy. 

'' I cannot go," he answered in a dejected voice. '' I have 
25 given my war-arrows to the Meneaska." 

'' You have only given him two of your arrows," said 
Reynal. " If you ask him, he will give them back again," 

For some time the White Shield said nothing. At last he 
spoke in a gloomy tone, — 
30 " One of my young men has had bad dreams. The spirits 
of the dead came and threw stones at him in his sleep." 

If such a dream had actually taken place it might have 
broken up this or any other war-party, but both Reynal and 
I were convinced at the time that it was a mere fabrication 
to excuse his remaining at home. 



THE HUNTING CAMP 215 

The White Shield was a warrior of noted prowess. Very 
probably, he would have received a mortal wound without 
the show of pain, and endured without flinching the worst 
tortures that an enemy could inflict upon him. The whole 
power of an Indian's nature would be summoned to encoun- 5 
ter such a trial ; every influence of his education from child- 
hood would have prepared him for it ; the cause of his 
suffering would have been visibly and palpably before him, 
and his spirit would rise to set his enemy at defiance, and 
gain the highest glory of a warrior by meeting death with 10 
fortitude. But when he feels himself attacked by a myste- 
rious evil, before whose assaults his manhood is wasted, and 
his strength drained away, when he can see no enemy to 
resist and defy, the boldest warrior falls prostrate at once. 
He believes that a bad spirit has taken possession of him, or 15 
that he is the victim of some charm. When suffering from 
a protracted disorder, an Indian will often abandon himself 
to his supposed destiny, pine away and die, the victim of 
his own imagination. The same effect will often follow a 
series of calamities, or a long run of ill-luck, and Indians 20 
have been known to ride into the midst of an enemy's camp, 
or attack a grizzly bear single-handed, to get rid of a life 
supposed to lie under the doom of fate. 

Thus, after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling upon the 
Great Spirit, the White Shield's war-party came to nought. 25 



CHAPTER XVI 
THE TRAPPERS 

In speaking of the Indians, I have ahnost forgotten two 
bold adventurers of another race, the trappers Rouleau and 
Saraphin. These men were bent on a hazardous enterprise. 
They, were on their way to the country ranged by the Arapa- 

5 hoes, a day's journey west of our camp. These Arapahoes, 
of whom Shaw and I afterwards fell in with a large number, 
are ferocious savages, who of late had declared themselves 
enemies to the whites, and threatened death to the first who 
should venture within their territory. The occasion of the 

10 declaration was as follows : — 

In the preceding spring, 1845, Colonel Kearney left Fort 
Leavenworth with several companies of dragoons, marched 
to Fort Laramie, passed along the foot of the mountains to 
Bent's Fort, and then, turning eastward again, returned to 

15 the point whence he set out. While at Fort Laramie, he 
sent a part of his command as far westward as Sweetwater, 
while he himself remained at the fort, and despatched 
messages to the surrounding Indians to meet him there in 
council. Then for the first time the tribes of that vicinity 

20 saw the white warriors, and, as might have been expected, 
they were lost in astonishment at their regular order, their 
gay attire, the completeness of their martial equipment, and 
the size and strength of their horses. Among the rest, the 
Arapahoes came in considerable numbers to the fort. They 

25 had lately committed numerous murders, and Colonel Kear- 
ney threatened that if they killed any more white men he 
would turn loose his dragoons upon them, and annihilate 
their nation. In the evening, to add effect to his speech, he 

216 



THE TRAPPERS 217 

ordered a howitzer to be fired and a rocket to be thrown up. 
Many of the Arapahoes fell flat on the ground, while others 
ran away screaming with amazement and terror. On the 
following day they withdrew to their mountains, confounded 
at the appearance of the dragoons, at their big gun which 5 
went off twice at one shot, and the fiery messenger which 
they had sent up to the Great Spirit. For many months 
they remained quiet, and did no farther mischief. At length, 
just before we came into the country, one of them, by an 
act of the basest treachery, killed two white men, Boot and 10 
May, who were trapping among the mountains. For this 
act it was impossible to discover a motive. It seemed to 
spring from one of those inexplicable impulses which often 
possess Indians, and which appear to be mere outbreaks 
of native ferocity. ISTo sooner was the murder committed 15 
than the whole tribe were in consternation. They expected 
every day that the avenging dragoons would come, little 
thinking that a desert of nine hundred miles lay between 
them and their enemy. A large deputation of them came 
to Fort Laramie, bringing a valuable present of horses, in 20 
atonement. These Bordeaux refused to accept. They then 
asked if he would be satisfied with their delivering up the 
murderer himself; but he declined this offer also. The 
Arapahoes went back more terrified than ever. Weeks 
passed away, and still no dragoons appeared. A result fol- 25 
lowed which those best acquainted with Indians had pre- 
dicted. They imagined that fear had prevented Bordeaux 
from accepting their gifts, and that they had nothing to 
apprehend from the vengeance of the whites. From terror 
they rose to the height of insolence. They called the white 30 
men cowards and old women ; and a friendly Dahcotah 
came to Fort Laramie with the report that they were deter- 
mined to kill the first white dog they could lay hands on. 

Had a military officer, with suitable powers, been stationed 
at Fort Laramie ; had he accepted the offer of the Arapahoes 



218 THE OREGON TRAIL 

to deliver up the murderer, and ordered him to be led out and 
shot, in presence of his tribe, — they would have been awed 
into tranquillity, and much danger averted; but now the 
neighborhood of the Medicine Bow Mountain was perilous in 
5 the extreme. Old Mene-Seela, a true friend of the whites, and 
many other of the Indians, gathered about the two trappers, 
and vainly endeavored to turn them from their purpose ; 
but Rouleau and Saraphin only laughed at the danger. On 
the morning preceding that on which they were to leave the 

10 camp, we could all see faint white columns of smoke rising 
against the dark base of the Medicine Bow. Scouts were 
sent out immediately, and reported that these proceeded 
from an Arapahoe camp, abandoned only a few hours be- 
fore. Still the two trappers continued their preparations 

15 for departure. 

Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen and 
sinister countenance. His rifle had very probably drawn 
other blood than that of buffalo or Indians. Rouleau had 
a broad ruddy face, marked with as few traces of thought 

20 or care as a child's. His figure was square and strong, but 
the first joints of both his feet were frozen off, and his horse 
had lately thrown and trampled upon him, by which he had 
been severely injured in the chest. But nothing could sub- 
due his gayety. He went all day rolling about the camp 

25 on his stumps of feet, talking, singing, and frolicking Avith 
the Indian women. Rouleau had an unlucky partiality for 
squaws. He always had one, whom he must needs bedizen 
with beads, ribbons, and all the finery of an Indian ward- 
robe ; and though he was obliged to leave her behind him 

30 during his expeditions, this hazardous necessity did not at 
all trouble him, for his disposition was the reverse of jeal- 
ous. If at any time he had not lavished the whole of the 
precarious profits of his vocation upon his dark favorite, he 
devoted the rest to feasting his comrades. If liquor was not 
to be had — and this was usually the case — strong coffee 



THE TRAPPERS 219 

would be substituted. As the men of that region are by no 
means remarkable for providence or self-restraint, whatever 
was set before them on these occasions, however extrava- 
gant in price or enormous in quantity, was sure to be dis- 
posed of at one sitting. Like other trappers. Rouleau's life 5 
was one of contrast and variety. It was only at certain sea- 
sons, and for a limited time, that he was absent on his expe- 
ditions. For the rest of the year he would lounge about the 
fort, or encamp with his friends in its vicinity, hunting, or 
enjoying all the luxury of inaction ; but when once in pur- lo 
suit of the beaver, he was involved in extreme privations 
and perils. Hand and foot, eye and ear, must be always 
alert. Frequently he must content himself with devouring 
his evening meal uncooked, lest the light of his fire should 
attract the eyes of some wandering Indian ; and sometimes 15 
having made his rude repast, he must leave his fire still 
blazing, and withdraw to a distance under cover of the 
darkness, that his disappointed enemy, drawn thither by 
the light, may find his victim gone, and be unable to trace 
his footsteps in the gloom. This is the life led by scores 20 
of men among the Rocky Mountains. I once met a trapper 
whose breast was marked with the scars of six bullets and 
arrows, one of his arms broken by a shot and one of his 
knees shattered ; yet still, with the mettle of New England, 
whence he had come, he continued to follow his perilous 25 
calling. 

On the last day of our stay in this camp, the trappers were 
ready for departure. When in the Black Hills they had 
caught seven beavers, and they now left their skins in 
charge of Reynal, to be kept until their return. Their strong, 30 
gaunt horses were equipped with rusty Spanish bits, and 
rude Mexican saddles, to which wooden stirrups were at- 
tached, while a buffalo-robe was rolled up behind, and a 
bundle of beaver-traps slung at the pommel. These, together 
with their rifles, knives, powder-horns^ and bullet pouches, 



220 THE OREGON TRAIL 

flint and steel and a tin cup, composed their whole travel- 
ling equipment. They shook hands with us, and rode away ; 
Saraphin, with his grim countenance, was in advance ; but 
Rouleau, clambering gayly into his seat, kicked his horse's 

5 sides, flourished his whip, and trotted briskly over the 
prairie, trolling forth a Canadian song at the top of his 
voice. Reynal looked after them with his face of brutal 
selfishness. 

" Well," he said, " if they are killed, I shall have the 

10 beaver. They '11 fetch me fifty dollars at the fort, anyhow." 
This was the last I saw of theyi. 

We had been five days in the hunting-camp, and the 
meat, which all this time had hung drying in the sun, was 
now fit for transportation. Buffalo-hides also had been pro- 

15 cured in sufficient quantities for making the next season's 
lodges ; but it remained to provide the long poles on which 
they were to be supported. These were only to be had 
among the tall spruce woods of the Black Hills, and in that 
direction therefore our next move was to be made. Amid 

20 the general abundance which during this time had prevailed 
in the camp, there were no instances of individual priva- 
tion ; for although the hide and the tongue of the buffalo 
belong by exclusive right to the hunter who has killed it, 
yet any one else is equally entitled to help himself from 

25 the rest of the carcass. Thus the weak, the aged, and even 
the indolent come in for a share of the spoils, and many a 
helpless old woman, who would otherwise perish from star- 
vation, is sustained in abundance. 

On the twenty-fifth of July, late in the afternoon, the 

30 camp broke up, with the usual tumult and confusion, and 
we all moved once more, on horseback and on foot, over the 
plains. We advanced, however, but a few miles. The old 
men, who during the whole march had been stoutly striding 
along on foot in front of the people, now seated themselves 
in a circle on the ground, while the families, erecting their 



THE TRAPPERS 221 

lodges in the prescribed order around them, formed the 
usual great circle of the camp ; meanwhile these village 
patriarchs sat smoking and talking. I threw my bridle to 
Raymond, and sat down as usual along with them. There 
was none of that reserve and apparent dignity which an 5 
Indian always assumes when in council, or in the presence 
of white men whom he distrusts. The party, on the con- 
trary, was an extremely merry one, and as in a social circle 
of a quite different character, '^ if there was not much wit, 
there was at least a great deal of laughter." 10 

When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and withdrew 
to the lodge of my host. Here I was stooping, in the act of 
taking off my powder-horn and bullet-pouch, when suddenly, 
and close at hand, pealing loud and shrill, and in right good 
earnest, came the terrific yell of the war-whoop. Kongra- 15 
Tonga's squaw snatched up her youngest child, and ran out 
of the lodge. I followed, and found the whole village in 
confusion, resounding with cries and yells. The circle of 
old men in the centre had vanished. The warriors, with 
glittering eyes, came darting, weapons in hand, out of the 20 
low openings of the lodges, and running with wild yells 
towards the farther end of the village. Advancing a few 
rods in that direction, I saw a crowd in furious agitation. 
Just then I distinguished the voices of Raymond and Rey- 
nal, shouting to me from a distance, and, looking back, I 25 
saw the latter with his rifle in his hand, standing on the 
farther bank of a little stream that ran along the outskirts 
of the camp. He was calling to Raymond and me to come 
over and join him, and Raymond, with his usual deliberate 
gait and stolid countenance, was already moving in that 30 
direction. 

This was clearly the wisest course, unless we wished to 
involve ourselves in the fray ; so I turned to go, but just 
then a pair of eyes, gleaming like a snake's, and an aged 
familiar countenance was thrust from the opening of a 



222 THE OREGON TRAIL 

neighboring lodge, and out bolted old Mene-Seela, full of 
fight, clutching his bow and arrows in one hand and his 
knife in the other. At that instant he tripped and fell 
sprawling on his face, while his weapons flew scattering in 

5 every direction. The women with loud screams were hurry- 
ing with their children in their arms to place them out of 
danger, and I observed some hastening to prevent mischief, 
by carrying away all the weapons they could lay hands on. 
On a rising ground close to the camp stood ^a line of old 

10 women singing a medicine-song to allay the tumult. As I 
approached the side of the brook, I heard gun-shots behind 
me, and, turning back, saw that the crowd had separated 
into two long lines of naked warriors confronting each other 
at a respectful distance, and yelling and jumping about to 

15 dodge the shot of their adversaries, while they discharged 
bullets and arrows against each other. At the same time 
certain sharp, humming sounds in the air over my head, like 
the flight of beetles on a summer evening, warned me that 
the danger was not wholly confined to the immediate scene 

20 of the fray. So wading through the brook, I joined Reynal 
and Raymond, and we sat down on the grass, in the posture 
of an armed neutrality, to watch the result. 

Happily it may be for ourselves, though contrary to our 
expectation, the disturbance was quelled almost as soon as 

25 it began. When I looked again, the combatants were once 
more mingled together in a mass. Though yells sounded 
occasionally from the throng, the firing had entirely ceased, 
and I observed five or six persons moving busily about, as 
if acting the part of peace-makers. One of the village her- 

30 aids or criers proclaimed in a loud voice something which 
my two companions were too much engrossed in their own 
observations to translate for me. The crowd began to dis- 
perse, though many a deep-set black eye still glittered with 
an unnatural lustre, as the warriors slowly withdrew to their 
lodges. This fortunate suppression of the disturbance was 



THE TRAPPERS 223 

owing to a few of the old men, less pugnacious than Mene- 
Seela, who boldly ran in between the combatants, and aided 
by some of the " soldiers," or Indian police, succeeded in 
effecting their object. 

It seemed very strange to me that although many arrows 5 
and bullets were discharged, no one was mortally hurt, and 
I could only account for this by the fact that both the 
marksman and the object of his aim were leaping about 
incessantly. By far the greater part of the villagers had 
joined in the fray, for although there were not more than lo 
a dozen guns in the whole camp, I heard at least eight or 
ten shots fired. 

In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively quiet. A 
group of warriors was again seated in the middle of the vil- 
lage, but this time I did not venture to join them, because I 15 
could see that the pipe, contrary to the usual order, was 
passing from the left hand to the right around the circle ; a 
sure sign that a '^ medicine-smoke " of reconciliation was 
going forward, and that a white man would be an intruder. 
When I again entered the still agitated camp it was nearly 20 
dark, and mournful cries, howls, and wailings resounded 
from many female voices. Whether these had any connec- 
tion with the late disturbance, or were merely lamentations 
for relatives slain in some former war expeditions, I could 
not distinctly ascertain. 25 

To inquire too closely into the cause of the quarrel was 
by no means prudent, and it was not until some time after 
that I discovered what had given rise to it. Among the 
Dahcotah there are many associations or fraternities, super- 
stitious, warlike, or social. Among them was one called 30 
" The Arrow-Breakers," now in great measure disbanded 
and dispersed. In the village there were, however, four men 
belonging to it, distinguished by the peculiar arrangement 
of their hair, which rose in a high bristling mass above 
their foreheads, adding greatly to their apparent height, and 



224 THE OREGON TRAIL 

giving them a most ferocious appearance. The principal 
among them was the Mad Wolf, a warrior of remarkable size 
.and strength, great courage, and the fierceness of a demon. 
I had always looked upon him as the most dangerous man 

5 in the village ; and though he often invited me to feasts, I 
never entered his lodge unarmed. The Mad Wolf had taken 
a fancy to a fine horse belonging to another Indian, called 
the Tall Bear ; and anxious to get the animal into his pos- 
session, he made the owner a present of another horse nearly 

10 equal in value. According to the customs of the Dahcotah, 
the acceptance of this gift involved a sort of obligation to 
make a return ; and the Tall Bear well understood that the 
other had his favorite buffalo-horse in view. He, however, 
accepted the present without a word of thanks, and, having 

15 picketed the horse before his lodge, suffered day after day 
to pass without making the expected return. The Mad Wolf 
grew impatient ; and at last, seeing that his bounty was not 
likely to produce the desired result, he resolved to reclaim 
it. So this evening, as soon as the village was encamped, he 

20 went to the lodge of the Tall Bear, seized upon the horse he 
had given him, and led him away. At this the Tall Bear 
broke into one of those fits of sullen rage not uncommon 
among Indians, ran up to the unfortunate horse, and gave 
him three mortal stabs with his knife. Quick as lightning, 

25 the Mad Wolf drew his bow to its utmost tension, and held 
the arrow quivering close to the breast of his adversary. 
The Tall Bear, as the Indians who were near him said, stood 
with his bloody knife in his hand, facing the assailant with 
the utmost calmness. Some of his friends and relatives, 

30 seeing his danger, ran hastily to his assistance. The remain- 
ing three Arrow-Breakers, on the other hand, came to the 
aid of their associate. Their friends joined them, the war- 
cry was raised, and the tumult became general. 

The " soldiers," who lent their timely aid in putting it 
down, are the most important executive functionaries in an 



THE TRAPPERS 225 

Indian village. The office is one of considerable honor, be- 
ing confided only to men of courage and repute. They derive 
their authority from the old men and chief warriors of the 
village, who elect them in councils occasionally convened 
for the purpose, and thus can exercise a degree of author- 5 
ity which no one else in the village would dare to assume. 
While very few Ogillallah chiefs could venture without risk 
of their lives to strike or lay hands upon the meanest of 
their people, the " soldiers," in the discharge of their ap- 
propriate functions, have full license to make use of these 10 
and similar acts of coercion. 



CHAPTER XVII 
THE BLACK HILLS 

We travelled eastward for two days, and then the gloomy 
ridges of the Black Hills rose up before us. The village 
passed along for some miles beneath their declivities, trail- 
ing out to a great length over the arid prairie, or winding 

5 among small detached hills of distorted shapes. Turning 
sharply to the left, we entered a wide defile of the moun- 
tains, down the bottom of which a brook came winding, 
lined with tall grass and dense copses, amid which were 
hidden many beaver-dams and lodges. We passed along 

10 between two lines of high precipices and rocks piled in dis- 
order one upon another, with scarcely a tree, a bush, or a 
clump of grass. The restless Indian boys wandered along 
their edges and clambered up and down their rugged sides, 
and sometimes a group of them would stand on the verge 

15 of a cliff and look down on the procession as it passed 
beneath. As we advanced, the passage grew more narrow ; 
then it suddenly expanded into a round grassy meadow, 
completely encompassed by mountains ; and here the fami- 
lies stopped as they came up in turn, and the camp rose like 

20 magic. 

The lodges were hardly pitched when, with their usual 
precipitation, the Indians set about accomplishing the object 
that had brought them there ; that is, obtaining poles for 
their new lodges. Half the population, men, women, and 

25 boys, mounted their horses and set out for the depths of the 
mountains. It was a strange cavalcade, as they rode at full 
gallop over the shingly rocks and into the dark opening of 
the defile beyond. We passed between precipices, sharp and 

226 



THE BLACK HILLS 227 

splintering at the tops, their sides beetling over the defile 
or descending in abrupt declivities, bristling with fir-trees. 
On our left they rose close to us like a wall, but on the right 
a winding brook with a narrow strip of marshy soil inter- 
vened. The stream was clogged with old beaver-dams, and 5 
spread frequently into wide pools. There were thick bushes 
and many dead and blasted trees along its course, though 
frequently nothing remained but stumps cut close to the 
ground by the beaver, and marked with the sharp chisel- 
like teeth of those indefatigable laborers. Sometimes we 10 
dived among trees, and then emerged upon open spots, over 
which, Indian-like, all galloped at full speed. As Pauline 
bounded over the rocks I felt her saddle-girth slipping, and 
alighted to draw it tighter ; when the whole cavalcade swept 
past me in a moment, the women with their gaudy orna- 15 
ments tinkling as they rode, the men whooping, laughing, 
and lashing forward their horses. Two black-tailed deer 
bounded away among the rocks ; Kaymond shot at them 
from horseback ; the sharp report of his rifle was answered 
by another equally sharp from the opposing cliffs, and then 20 
the echoes, leaping in rapid succession from side to side, 
died away rattling far amid the mountains. 

After having ridden in this manner six or eight miles, 
the scene changed, and all the declivities were covered with 
forests of tall, slender spruce-trees. The Indians began to 25 
fall off to the right and left, dispersing with their hatchets 
and knives to cut the poles which they had come to seek. 
I was soon left almost alone ; but in the stillness of those 
lonely mountains, the stroke of hatchets and the sound of 
voices might be heard from far and near. 30 

Eeynal, who imitated the Indians in their habits as well 
as the worst features of their character, had killed buffalo 
enough to make a lodge for himself and his squaw, and now 
he was eager to get the poles necessary to complete it. He 
asked me to let Raymond go with him, and assist in the 



228 THE OREGON TRAIL 

work. I assented, and the two men immediately entered 
the thickest part of the wood. Having left my horse in 
Raymond's keeping, I began to climb the mountain. I was 
weak and weary, and made slow progress, often pausing to 

5 rest, but after an hour, I gained a height whence the little 
valley out of which I had climbed seemed like a deep, dark 
gulf, though the inaccessible peak of the mountain was still 
towering to a much greater distance above. Objects familiar 
from childhood surrounded me ; crags and rocks, a black 

10 and sullen brook that gurgled with a hollow voice deep 
among the crevices, a wood of mossy distorted trees and pros- 
trate trunks flung down by age and storms, scattered among 
the rocks, or damming the foaming waters of the brook. 
Wild as they were, these mountains were thickly peopled. 

15 As I climbed farther, I found the broad dusty paths made 
by the elk, as they hied across the mountain-side. The grass 
on all the terraces was trampled down by deer ; there were 
numerous tracks of wolves, and in some of the rougher and 
more precipitous parts of the ascent, I found footprints dif- 

20 ferent from any that I had ever seen, and which I took to 
be those of the Eocky Mountain sheep. I sat down upon 
a rock ; there was a perfect stillness. No wind was stirring, 
and not even an insect could be heard. I remembered the 
danger of becoming lost in such a place, and fixed my eye 

25 upon one of the tallest pinnacles of the opposite mountain. 
It rose sheer upright from the woods below, and, by an ex- 
traordinary freak of nature, sustained aloft on its very sum- 
mit a large loose rock. Such a landmark could never be 
mistaken, and, feeling once more secure, I began again to 

30 move forward. A white wolf jumped up from among some 
bushes, and leaped clumsily away; but he stopped for a 
moment, and turned back his keen eye and grim bristling 
muzzle. I longed to take his scalp and carry it back with 
me, as a trophy of the Black Hills, but before I could fire, 
he was gone among the rocks. Soon after I heard a rustling 



THE BLACK HILLS 229 

sound, with a cracking of twigs at a little distance, and saw 
moving above the tall bushes the branching antlers of an elk. 
I was in the midst of a hunter's paradise. 

Such are the Black Hills, as I found them in July ; but 
they wear a different garb when winter sets in, when the 5 
broad boughs of the hr-trees are bent to the ground by the 
load of snow, and the dark mountains are white with it. At 
that season the trappers, returned from their autumn expe- 
ditions, often build their cabins in the midst of these soli- 
tudes, and live in abundance and luxury on the game that 10 
harbors there. I have heard them tell, how with their tawny 
mistresses, and perhaps a few young Indian companions, 
they had spent months in total seclusion. They would dig 
pitfalls, and set traps for the white wolves, sables, and 
martens, and though through the whole night the awful 15 
chorus of the wolVes would resound from the frozen moun- 
tains around them, yet within their massive walls of logs 
they would lie in careless ease before the blazing fire, and in 
the morning shoot the elk and deer from their very door. 



CHAPTER XVIII 
A MOUNTAIN HUNT 

The camp was full of the newly-cut lodge-poles : some, 
already prepared, were stacked together, white and glisten- 
ing, to dry and harden in the sun ; others were lying on the 
ground, and the squaws, the boys, and even some of the 
5 warriors, were busily at work peeling off the bark and paring 
them with their knives to the proper dimensions. Most of 
the hides obtained at the last camp were dressed and scraped 
thin enough for use, and many of the squaws were engaged 
in fitting them together and sewing them with sinews, to 

10 form the coverings for the lodges. Men were wandering 
among the bushes that lined the brook along the margin of 
the camp, cutting sticks of red willow, or shongsasha, the 
bark of which, mixed with tobacco, they used for smoking. 
Reynal's squaw was hard at work with her awl and buffalo 

15 sinews upon her lodge, while her proprietor, having just 
finished an enormous breakfast of meat, was smoking a 
social pipe with Raymond and myself. He proposed at 
length that we should go out on a hunt. " Go to the Big 
Crow's lodge," said he, '' and get your rifle. I '11 bet the 

20 gray Wyandot pony against your mare that we start an elk 
or a black-tailed deer, or likely as not, a big-horn before we 
are two miles out of camp. I '11 take my squaw's old yellow 
horse ; you can't whip her more than four miles an hour, 
but she is as good for the mountains as a mule." 

25 I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually rode. 
She was a powerful animal, gentle and manageable enough 
by nature ; but of late her temper had been soured by mis- 
fortune. About a week before, I had chanced to offend some 

230 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 231 

one of the Indians, who out of revenge went secretly into 
the meadow and gave her a severe stab in the haunch with 
his knife. The wound, though partially healed, still galled 
her extremely, and made her even more perverse and ob- 
stinate than the rest of her species. 5 

The morning was a glorious one, and I was in better 
health than I had been at any time for the last two months. 
We left the little valley and ascended a rocky hollow in the 
mountain. Very soon we were out of sight of the camp, and 
of every living thing, man, beast, bird, or insect. I had lo 
never before, except on foot, passed over such execrable 
ground, and I desire never to repeat the experiment. The 
black mule grew indignant, and even the redoubtable yellow 
horse stumbled every moment, and kept groaning to himself 
as he cut his feet and legs among the sharp rocks. 15 

It was a scene of silence and desolation. Little was visible 
except beetling crags and the bare shingly sides of the moun- 
tains, relieved by scarcely a trace of vegetation. At length, 
however, we came upon a forest tract, and had no sooner 
done so than we heartily wished ourselves back among the 20 
rocks again ; for we were on a steep descent, among trees 
so thick that we could see scarcely a rod in any direction. 

If one is anxious to place himself in a situation where the 
hazardous and the ludicrous are combined in about equal pro- 
portions, let him get upon a vicious mule, with a snaffle bit, 25 
and try to drive her through the woods down a slope of forty- 
five degrees. Let him have a long rifle, a buckskin frock with 
long fringes, and a head of long hair. These latter append- 
ages will be caught every moment and twitched away in small 
portions by the twigs, which will also whip him smartly across 30 
the face, while the large branches above thump him on the 
head. His mule, if she be a true one, will alternately stop 
short and dive violently forward, and his positions upon her 
back will be somewhat diversified. At one time he will clasp 
her affectionately, to avoid the blow of a bough overhead; 



232 THE OREGON TRAIL 

at another, he will throw himself back and fling his knee 
forward against her neck, to keep it from being crushed be- 
tween the rough bark of a tree and the ribs of the animal. 
Reynal was cursing incessantly during the whole way down. 

5 Neither of us had the remotest idea where we were going ; 
and though I have seen rough riding, I shall always retain 
an evil recollection of that five minutes' scramble. 

At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging into the 
channel of a brook that circled along the foot of the descent ; 

10 and here, turning joyfully to the left, we rode at ease over 
the white pebbles and the rippling water, shaded from the 
glaring sun by an overarching green transparency. These 
halcyon moments were of short duration. The friendly 
brook, turning sharply to one side, went brawling and foam- 

15 ing down the rocky hill into an abyss, which, as far as we 
could see, had no bottom ; so once more we betook ourselves 
to the detested woods. When next we came out from their 
shadow and sunlight, we found ourselves standing in the 
broad glare of day, on a high, jutting point of the mountain. 

20 Before us stretched a long, wide, desert valley, winding 
away far amid the mountains. Reynal gazed intently ; he 
began to speak at last : — 

" Many a time, when I was with the Indians, I have been 
hunting for gold all through the Black Hills. There 's plenty 

25 of it here ; you may be certain of that. I have dreamed 
about it fifty times, and I never dreamed yet but what it 
came out true. Look over yonder at those black rocks piled 
up against that other big rock. Don't it look as if there 
might be something there ? It won't do for a white man to 

30 be rummaging too much about these mountains ; the Indians 
say they are full of bad spirits ; and I believe myself that 
it 's no good luck to be hunting about here after gold. Well, 
for all that, I would like to have one of those fellows up 
here, from down below, to go about with his witch-hazel rod, 
and I '11 guarantee that it would not be long before he would 



A MOUNTAIX HUNT 233 

light on a gold mine. iSTever mind ; we '11 let the gold alone 
for to-day. Look at those trees down below us in the hollow ; 
we '11 go down there, and I reckon we '11 get a black-tailed 
deer." 

But Reynal's predictions were not verified. We passed 5 
mountain after mountain, and valley after valley ; we ex- 
plored deep ravines ; yet still, to my companion's vexation 
and evident surprise, no game could be found. So, in the 
absence of better, we resolved to go out on the plains and 
look for an antelope. With this view we began to pass down lo 
a narrow valley, the bottom of which was covered with the 
stiff wild-sage bushes, and marked with deep paths, made by 
the buffalo, who, for some inexplicable reason, are accus- 
tomed to penetrate, in their long, grave processions, deep 
among the gorges of these sterile mountains. 15 

Reynal's eye ranged incessantly among the rocks and 
along the edges of the precipices, in hopes of discovering 
the mountain-sheep peering down upon us from that giddy 
elevation. Nothing was visible for some time. At length 
we both detected something in motion near the foot of one 20 
of the mountains, and a moment afterwards a black-tailed 
deer stood gazing at us from the top of a rock, and then, 
slowly turning away, disappeared behind it. In an instant 
Reynal was out of his saddle, and running towards the spot. 
I, being too weak to follow, sat holding his horse and wait- 25 
ing the result. I lost sight of him ; then heard the report 
of his rifle deadened among the rocks, and finally saw him 
reappear, with a surly look, that plainly betrayed his ill 
success. Again we moved forward down the long valley, 
when soon after we came full upon what seemed a wide and 30 
very shallow ditch, incrusted at the bottom with white clay, 
dried and cracked in the sun. Under this fair outside Rey- 
nal's eye detected the signs of lurking mischief. He called 
to me to stop, and then alighting, picked up a stone and 
threw it into the ditch. To my amazement it fell with a 



234 THE OREGON TRAIL 

dull splash, breaking at once through the thin crust, and 
spattering round the hole a yellowish creamy fluid, into 
which it sank and disappeared. A stick, five or six feet 
long, lay on the ground, and with this we sounded the insid- 

5 ious abyss close to its edge. It was just possible to touch 
the bottom. Places like this are numerous among the Rock}^ 
Mountains. The buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk, 
often plunges into them unawares. Down he sinks ; one 
snort of terror, one convulsive struggle, and the slime 

10 calmly flows above his shaggy head, the languid undula- 
tions of its sleek and placid surface alone betraying how the 
powerful monster writhes in his death-throes below. 

We found after some trouble a point where we could pass 
the abyss, and now the valley began to open upon plains 

15 which spread to the horizon before us. On one of their dis- 
tant swells we discerned three or four black specks, which 
Reynal pronounced to be buffalo. 

" Come," said he, '' we must get one of them. My squaw 
wants more sinews to finish her lodge with, and I want some 

20 glue myself." 

He immediately put the yellow horse to such a gallop as 
he was capable of executing, while I set spurs to the mule, 
who soon far outran her plebeian rival. When we had 
galloped a mile or more, a large rabbit, by ill-luck, sprang 

25 up just under the feet of the mule, who bounded violently 
aside in full career. Weakened as I was, I was flung forcibly 
to the ground, and my rifle, falling close to my head, went 
off with the shock. Its sharp, spiteful report rang for some 
moments in my ear. Being slightly stunned, I lay for an 

30 instant motionless, and Reynal, supposing me to be shot, 
rode up and began to curse the mule. Soon recovering my- 
self, I arose, picked up the rifle, and anxiously examined it. 
It was badly injured. The stock was cracked, and the main 
screw broken, so that the lock had to be tied in its place 
with a string; yet happily it was not rendered totally 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 235 

unserviceable. I wiped it out, reloaded it, and handing 
it to Reynal, who meanwhile had caught the mule and led 
her up to me, I mounted again. No sooner had I done 
so, than the brute began to rear and plunge with extreme 
violence ; but being now well prepared for her, and free 5 
from encumbrance, I soon reduced her to submission. Then 
taking the rifle again from Eeynal, we galloped forward as 
before. 

We were now free of the mountains and riding far out on 
the broad prairie. The buffalo were still some two miles in lo 
advance of us. When we came near them, we stopped where 
a gentle swell of the plain concealed us, and while I held his 
horse, Keynal ran forward with his rifle, till I lost sight 
of him beyond the rising ground. A few minutes elapsed : 
I heard the report of his piece, and saw the buffalo running 15 
away, at full speed on the right; immediately after, the 
hunter himself, unsuccessful as before, came up and mounted 
his horse in excessive ill-humor. He cursed the Black Hills 
and the buffalo, swore that he was a good hunter, which 
indeed was true, and that he had never been out before 20 
among those mountains without killing two or three deer 
at least. 

We now turned towards the distant encampment. As we 
rode along, antelope in considerable numbers were flying 
lightly in all directions over the plain, but not one of them 25 
would stand and be shot at. When we reached the foot of 
the mountain-ridge that lay between us and the village, we 
Avere too impatient to take the smooth and circuitous route ; 
so turning short to the left, we drove our wearied animals 
upward among the rocks. Still more antelope were leaping 30 
about among these flinty hillsides. Each of us shot at one, 
though from a great distance, and each missed his mark. 
At length we reached the summit of the last ridge. Looking 
down we saw the bustling camp in the valley at our feet, 
and ingloriously descended to it. As we rode among the 



236 THE OREGON TRAIL 

lodges, the Indians looked in vain for the fresh meat that 
should have hung behind our saddles, and the squaws 
uttered various suppressed ejaculations, to the great indig- 
nation of Eeynal. Our mortification was increased when we 

5 rode up to his lodge. Here we saw his young Indian relative, 
the Hail-Storm, his light graceful figure reclining on the 
ground in an easy attitude, while with his friend The Kabbit, 
who sat by his side, he was making an abundant meal from 
a wooden bowl of wasna, which the squaw had placed be- 

10 tween them. Near him lay the fresh skin of a female elk, 
which he had just killed among the mountains, only a mile 
or two from the camp. No doubt the boy's heart was elated 
with triumph, but he betrayed no sign of it. He even seemed 
totally unconscious of our approach, and his handsome face 

15 had all the tranquillity of Indian self-control, — a self-control 
which prevents the exhibition of emotion without restrain- 
ing the emotion itself. It was about two months since I had 
known the Hail-Storm, and within that time his character 
had remarkably developed. When I first saw him, he was 

20 just emerging from the habits and feelings of the boy into 
the ambition of the hunter and warrior. He had lately 
killed his first deer, and this had excited his aspirations for 
distinction. Since that time he had been continually in 
search of game, and no young hunter in the village had been 

25 so active or so fortunate as he. All this success had pro- 
duced a marked change in his character. As I first remem- 
bered him, he always shunned the society of the young 
squaws, and was extremely bashful and sheepish in their 
presence ; but now, in the confidence of his new reputation, 

30 be began to assume the airs and arts of a man of gallantry. 
He wore his red blanket dashingly over his left shoulder, 
painted his cheeks every day with vermilion, and hung pend- 
ants of shells in his ears. If I observed ariglit, he met with 
very good success in his new pursuits ; still the Hail-Storm 
had much to accomplish before he attained the full standing 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 237 

of a warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear himself among 
the women and girls, he was still timid and abashed in the 
presence of the chiefs and old men ; for he had never yet 
killed a man, or stricken the dead body of an enemy in 
battle. I have no doubt that the handsome, smooth-faced 5 
boy burned with desire to flesh his maiden scalping-knife, 
and I would not have encamped alone with him without 
watching his movements with a suspicious eye. 

His elder brother, The Horse, was of a different character. 
He was nothing but a lazy dandy. He knew very well how lo 
to hunt, but preferred to live by the hunting of others. He 
had no appetite for distinction, and the Hail-Storm already 
surpassed- him in reputation. He had a dark and ugly face, 
and passed a great part of his time in adorning it with 
vermilion, and contemplating it by means of a little pocket 15 
looking-glass which I had given him. As for the rest of the 
day, he divided it between eating, sleeping, and sitting in 
the sun on the outside of a lodge. Here he would remain 
for hour after hour, arrayed in all his finery, with an old 
dragoon's sword in his hand, evidently flattering himself 20 
that he was the centre of attraction to the eyes of the sur- 
rounding squaws. Yet he sat looking straight forward with 
a face of the utmost gravity, as if wrapped in profound med- 
itation, and it was only by the occasional side-long glances 
which he shot at his supposed admirers that one could 25 
detect the true course of his thoughts. 

Both he and his brother may represent classes in the 
Indian community : neither should the Hail-Storm's friend, 
The Kabbit, be passed by without notice. The Hail-Storm 
and he were inseparable : they ate, slept, and hunted to- 30 
gether, and shared with one another almost all that they 
possessed. If there be anything that deserves to be called 
romantic in the Indian character, it is to be sought for in 
friendships such as this, which are common among many 
of the prairie tribes. 



238 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon dragged 
away. I lay in Reynal's lodge, overcome by the listless tor- 
por that pervaded the encampment. The day's work was 
finished, or if it were not, the inhabitants had resolved not 

5 to finish it at all, and were dozing quietly within the shelter 
of the lodges. A profound lethargy, the very spirit of in- 
dolence, seemed to have sunk upon the village. Now and 
then I could hear the, low laughter of some girl from within 
a neighboring lodge, or the small shrill voices of a few rest- 

10 less children, who alone were moving in the deserted area. 
The spirit of the place infected me ; I could not think con- 
secutively ; I was fit only for musing and revery, when at 
last, like the rest, I fell asleep. 

When evening came, and the fires were lighted round the 

15 lodges, a select family circle convened in the neighborhood 
of Eeynal's domicile. It was composed entirely of his 
squaw's relatives, a mean and ignoble clan, among whom 
none but the Hail-Storm held forth any promise of future 
distinction. Even his prospects were rendered not a little 

20 dubious by the character of the family, less, however, from 
any principle of aristocratic distinction than from the want 
of powerful supporters to assist him in his undertakings, 
and help to avenge his quarrels. Raymond and I sat down 
along with them. There were eight or ten men gathered 

25 around the fire, together with about as many women, old 
and young, some of whom were tolerably good-looking. As 
the pipe passed round among the men, a lively conversation 
went forward, more merry than delicate, and at length two 
or three of the elder women (for the girls were somewhat 

30 diffident and bashful) began to assail Raymond with various 
pungent witticisms. Some of the men took part, and an old 
squaw concluded by bestowing on him a ludicrous and in- 
decent nickname, at which a general laugh followed at his 
expense. Raymond grinned and giggled, and made several 
futile attempts at repartee. Knowing the impolicy and even 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT 239 

clanger of suffering myself to be placed in a ludicrous light 
among the Indians, I maintained a rigid, inflexible coun- 
tenance, and wholly escaped their sallies. 

In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that the 
camp was to retain its position for another day. I dreaded 5 
its languor and monotony, and, to escape it, set out to explore 
the surrounding mountains. I was accompanied by a faith- 
ful friend, my rifle, the only friend indeed on whose prompt 
assistance in time of trouble I could wholly rely. Most of 
the Indians in the village, it is true, professed good-will lo 
towards the whites, but the experience of others and my 
own observation had taught me the extreme folly of confi- 
dence, and the utter impossibility of foreseeing to what 
sudden acts the strange, unbridled impulses of an Indian 
may urge him. When among this people danger is never so 15 
near as when you are unprepared for it, never so remote as 
when you are armed and on the _ alert to meet it at any 
moment. Nothing offers so strong a temptation to their 
ferocious instincts as the appearance of timidity, weakness, 
or security. 20 

Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees and 
bushes, opened from the sides of the hills, which were 
shaggy with forests wherever the rocks permitted vegetation 
to spring. A great number of Indians were stalking along 
the edges of the woods, and boys were whooping and laugh- 25 
ing on the mountains, practising eye and hand, and indul- 
ging their destructive propensities by killing birds and small 
animals with their little bows and arrows. There was one 
glen, stretching up between steep cliffs far into the bosom 
of the mountain. I began to ascend along its bottom, push- 30 
ing my way onward among the rocks, trees, and bushes that 
obstructed it. A slender thread of water trickled through it, 
which since issuing from the heart of its native rock could 
scarcely have been warmed or gladdened by a ray of sun- 
shine. After advancing for some time, I conceived myself to 



240 THE OREGOX TRAIL 

be entirely alone ; but coming to a part of the glen in a 
great measure free of trees and undergrowth, I saw at some 
distance the black head and' red shoulders of an Indian 
among the bushes above. The reader need not prepare him- 

5 self for a startling adventure, for I have none to relate. 
The head and shoulders belonged to Mene-Seela, my best 
friend in the village. As I had approached noiselessly with 
my moccasoned feet, the old man was quite unconscious of 
my presence ; and turning to a point where I could gain an 

10 unobstructed view of him, I saw him seated alone, immov- 
able as a statue, among the rocks and trees. His face was 
turned upward, and his eyes seemed riveted on a pine-tree 
swinging from a cleft in the precipice above. The crest of 
the pine was swaying to and fro in the wind, and its long 

15 limbs waved slowly up and down, as if the tree had life. 
Looking for a while at the old man, I was satisfied that he 
was engaged in an act of worship, or prayer, or communion 
of some kind with a supernatural being. I longed to pene- 
trate his thoughts, but I could do nothing more than con- 

20 jecture and speculate. I knew that though the intellect of 
an Indian can embrace the idea of an all-wise, all-powerful 
Spirit, the supreme Ruler of the universe, yet his mind will 
not always ascend into communion with a being that seems to. 
him so vast, remote, and incomprehensible ; and when dan- 

25 ger threatens, when his hopes are broken, and trouble over- 
shadows him, he is prone to turn for relief to some inferior 
agency, less removed from the ordinary scope of his faculties. 
He has a guardian spirit, on whom he relies for succor and 
guidance. To him all nature is instinct with mystic influ- 

30 ence. Among those mountains not a wild beast was prowl- 
ing, a bird singing, or a leaf fluttering, that might not tend 
to direct his destiny, or give warning of what was in store 
for him ; and he watches the world of nature around him 
as the astrologer watches the stars. So closely is he linked 
with it that his guardian spirit, no unsubstantial creation of 



A MOUNTAIX HUNT 241 

the faiic}', is usually embodied in the form of some living 
thing : a bear, a wolf, an eagle, or a serpent ; and Mene- 
Seela, as he gazed intently on the old pine-tree, might be- 
lieve it to enshrine the fancied guide and protector of his 
life. 5 

Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, it was 
no part of good sense to disturb him. Silently retracing my 
footsteps, I descended the glen until I came to a point where 
I could climb the precipices that shut it in, and gain the side 
of the mountain. Looking up, I saw a tall peak rising among lo 
the woods. Something impelled me to climb ; I had not felt 
for many a day such strength and elasticity of limb. An 
hour and a half of slow and often intermitted labor brought 
me to the very summit ; and emerging from the dark shadows 
of the rocks and pines, I stepped forth into the light, and 15 
walking along the sunny verge of a precipice, seated my- 
self on its extreme point. Looking between the mountain- 
peaks to the westward, the pale blue prairie was stretching 
to the farthest horizon, like a serene and tranquil ocean. 
The surrounding mountains were in themselves sufficiently 20 
striking and impressive, but this contrast gave redoubled 
effect to their stern features. 



CHAPTER XIX 
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 

When I took leave of Shaw at La Bonte's camp, I prom- 
ised to meet him at Fort Laramie on the first of August. 
The Indians, too, intended to pass the mountains and move 
towards the fort. To do so at this point was impossible, 

5 because there was no passage ; and in order to find one, 
we were obliged to go twelve or fourteen miles southward. 
Late in the afternoon the camp got in motion. I rode in 
company with three or four young Indians at the rear, and 
the moving swarm stretched before me, in the ruddy light 

10 of sunset, or the deep shadow of the mountains, far be- 
yond my sight. It was an ill-omened spot they chose to 
encamp upon. When they were there just a year before, a 
war-party of ten men, led by The Whirlwind's son, had gone 
out against the enemy, and not one had ever returned. This 

15 was the immediate cause of this season's warlike prepara- 
tions. I. was not a little astonished, when I came to the 
camp, at the confusion of horrible sounds with which it was 
filled : howls, shrieks, and wailings rose from all the women 
present, many of whom, not content with this exhibition of 

20 grief for the loss of their friends and relatives, were gash- 
ing their legs deeply with knives. A warrior in the village, 
who had lost a brother in the expedition, chose another mode 
of displaying his sorrow. The Indians, who, though often 
rapacious, are devoid of avarice, will sometimes, when in 

25 mourning, or on other solemn occasions, give away the 
whole of their possessions, and reduce themselves to naked- 
ness and want. The warrior in question led his two best 
horses into the middle of the village, and gave them away 

242 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 243 

to his friends ; upon which, songs and acclamations in praise 
of his generosity mingled with the cries of the women. 

On the next morning we entered again among the moun- 
tains. There was nothing in their appearance either grand 
or picturesque, though they were desolate to the last degree, 5 
being mere piles of black and broken rocks, without trees or 
vegetation of an}' kind. As we passed among them along 
a wide valley, I noticed Raymond riding by the side of a 
young squaw, to whom he was addressing various compli- 
ments. All the old squaws in the neighborhood watched his lo 
proceedings in great admiration, and the girl herself would 
turn aside her head and laugh. Just then his mule thought 
proper to display her vicious pranks, and began to rear and 
plunge most furiously. Raymond was an excellent rider, 
and at first he stuck fast in his seat ; but the moment after, 15 
I saw the mule's hind-legs flourishing in the air, and my un- 
lucky follower pitching headforemost over her ears. There 
was a burst of screams and laughter from all the women, 
in which his mistress herself took part, and Raymond was 
assailed by such a shower of witticisms that he was glad to 20 
ride forward out of hearing. 

Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him shouting 
to me. He was pointing towards a detached rocky hill that 
stood in the middle of the valley before us, and from behind 
it a long file of elk came out at full speed and entered an 25 
opening in the mountain. They had scarcely disappeared, 
when. whoops and exclamations came from fifty voices around 
me. The young men leaped from their horses, flung down 
their heavy buffalo-robes, and ran at full speed towards 
the foot of the nearest mountain. Reynal also broke away 30 
at a gallop in the same direction. '' Come on ! come on ! " 
he called to us. " Do you see that band of big-horn up 
yonder ? If there 's one of them, there 's a hundred ! " 

In fact, near the summit of the mountain, I could see a 
large number of small white objects, moving rapidly upwards 



244 THE OREGON TRAIL 

among the precipices, while others were filing along its rocky 
profile. Anxious to see the sport, I galloped forward, and 
entering a passage in the side of the mountain, ascended 
among the loose rocks as far as my horse could carry me. 

5 Here I fastened her to an old pine-tree. At that moment 
E-aymond called to me from the right that another band of 
sheep was close at hand in that direction. I ran up to the 
top of the opening, which gave me a full view into the rocky 
gorge beyond ; and here I plainly saw some fifty or sixty 

10 sheep, almost within rifle-shot, clattering upwards among the 
rocks, and endeavoring, after their usual custom, to reach 
the highest point. The naked Indians bounded up lightly 
in pursuit. In a moment the game and hunters disappeared. 
Nothing could be seen or heard but the occasional report' of a 

15 gun, more and more distant, reverberating among the rocks. 

I turned to descend, and as I did so, could see the valley 

below alive with Indians passing rapidly through it, on 

horseback and on foot. A little farther on, all were stopping 

as they came up ; the camp was preparing and the lodges 

20 rising. I descended to this spot, and soon after Keynal and 
Baymond returned. They bore between them a sheep which 
they had pelted to death with stones from the edge of a 
ravine, along the bottom of which it was attempting to es- 
cape. One by one the hunters came dropping in ; yet such 

25 is the activity of the Rocky Mountain sheep that although 
sixty or seventy men were out in pursuit, not more than half 
a dozen animals were killed. Of these only one was a full- 
grown male. He had a pair of horns, the dimensions of 
which were almost beyond belief. I have seen among the 

30 Indians ladles with long handles, capable of containing 
more than a quart, cut out from such horns. 

Through the whole of the next morning we were moving 
forward among the hills. On the following day the heights 
closed around us, and the passage of the mountains began 
in earnest. Before the village left its 'camping-ground, I 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 245 

set forward in company with the Eagle-Feather, a man of 
powerful frame, but with a bad and sinister face. His son, 
a light-limbed boy, rode with us, and another Indian, named 
The Panther, was also of the party. Leaving the village out 
of sight behind us, we rode together up a rocky defile. After 5 
a while, however, the Eagle-Feather discovered in the dis- 
tance some appearance of game, and set off with his son in 
pursuit of it, while I went forward with The Panther. This 
was a mere noryi de guerre ; for, like many Indians, he con- 
cealed his real name out of some superstitious notion. He lo 
was a noble-looking fellow. As he suffered his ornamented 
buffalo-robe to fall in folds about his loins, his stately and 
graceful figure was fully displayed ; and while he sat his 
horse in an easy attitude, the long feathers of the prairie- 
cock fluttering from the crown of his head, he seemed the 15 
very model of a wild prairie-rider. He had not the same 
features with those of other Indians. Unless his face 
greatly belied him, he was free from the jealousy, suspicion, 
and malignant cunning of his people. For the most part, a 
civilized white man can discover very few points of sym- 20 
pathy between his own nature and that of an Indian. With 
every disposition to do justice to their good qualities, he 
must be conscious that an impassable gulf lies between him 
and his red brethren. Nay, so alien to himself do the}^ ap- 
pear, that, after breathing the air of the prairie for a few 25 
months or weeks, he begins to look upon them as a ti'ouble- 
some and dangerous species of wild beast. Yet, in the coun- 
tenance of The Panther, I gladly read that there were at 
least some points of sympathy between him and me. We 
were excellent friends, and as we rode forward together 30 
through rocky passages, deep dells, and little barren plains, 
he occupied himself very zealously in teaching me the Dah- 
cotah language. After a while, we came to a grassy recess, 
where some gooseberry-bushes were growing at the foot of a 
rock : and these offered such temptation to my companion that 



246 THE OREGON TRAIL 

he gave over his instructions, and stopped so long to gather 
the fruit, that before we were in motion again the van of 
the village came in view. An old woman appeared, leading 
down her pack-horse among the rocks above. Savage after 
5 savage followed, and the little dell was soon crowded with 
the throng. 

That morning's march was one not to be forgotten. It 
led us through a sublime waste, a wilderness of mountains 
and pine-forests, over which the spirit of loneliness and 

10 silence seemed brooding. Above and below, little could be 
seen but the same dark green foliage. It overspread the 
valleys, and enveloped the mountains, from the black rocks 
that crowned their summits to the streams that circled 
round their base. I rode to the top of a hill whence I could 

15 look down on the savage procession as it passed beneath my 
feet, and, far on the left, could see its thin and broken line, 
visible only at intervals, stretching away for miles among 
the mountains. On the farthest ridge, horsemen were still 
descending like mere specks in the distance. 

20 I remained on the hill until all had passed, and then de- 
scending followed after them. A little farther on I found a 
very small meadow, set deeply among steep mountains ; and 
here the whole village had encamped. The little spot was 
crowded with the confused and disorderly host. Some of 

25 the lodges were already set up, or the squaws perhaps were 
busy in drawing the heavy coverings of skin over the bare 
poles. Others were as yet mere skeletons, while others still, 
poles, covering, and all, lay scattered in disorder on the 
ground among buffalo-robes, bales of meat, domestic uten- 

30 sils, harness, and weapons. Squaws were screaming to one 
another, horses rearing and plunging, dogs yelping, eager 
to be disburdened of their loads, while the fluttering of 
feathers and the gleam of savage ornaments added liveli- 
ness to the scene. The small children ran about amid the 
crowd, while many of the boys were scrambling among the 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 247 

overhanging rocks, and standing with their little bows in 
their hands, looking down upon the restless throng. In 
contrast with the general confusion, a circle of old men and 
warriors sat in the midst, smoking in profound indifference 
and tranquillity. The disorder at length subsided. The 5 
horses were driven away to feed along the adjacent valley, 
and the camp assumed an air of listless repose. It was 
scarcely past noon ; a vast white canopy of smoke from a 
burning forest to the eastward overhung the place, and par- 
tially obscured the rays of the sun ; yet the heat was almost lo 
insupportable. The lodges stood crowded together w^ithout 
order in the narrow space. Each was a hot-house, within 
which the lazy proprietor lay sleeping. The camp was si- 
lent as death. Nothing stirred except now and then an old 
woman passing from lodge to lodge. The girls and young is 
men sat together in groups, under the pine-trees upon the 
surrounding heights. The dogs lay panting on the ground, 
too languid even to growl at the white man. At the en- 
trance of the meadow, there was a cold spring among the 
rocks, completely overshadowed by tall trees and dense 20 
undergrowth. In this cool and shady retreat a number of 
girls were assembled, sitting together on rocks and fallen . 
logs, discussing the latest gossip of the village, or laugh- 
ing and thrpwing water with their hands at the intruding 
Meneaska. The minutes seemed lengthened into hours. I lay 25 
for a long time under a tree studying the Ogillallah tongue, 
with the aid of my friend The Panther. When w^e w^ere 
both tired of this, I lay down by the side of a deep, clear 
pool, formed by the water of the spring. A shoal of little 
fishes of about a pin's length were playing in it, sporting 30 
together, as it seemed, very amicably ; but on closer obser- 
vation, I saw that they were engaged in cannibal warfare 
among themselves. Now and then one of the smallest 
would fall a victim, and immediately disappear down the 
maw of his conqueror. Every moment, however, the tyrant 



248 THE OREGON TRAIL 

of the pool, a goggle-eyed monster about three inches long, 
would slowly emerge with quivering fins and tail from un- 
der the shelving bank. The small fry at this would suspend 
their hostilities, and s(3atter in a panic at the appearance of 

5 overwhelming force. 

" Soft-hearted philanthropists," thought I, " may sigh 
long for their peaceful millennium; for, from minnows to 
men, life is incessant war." 

Evening approached at last ; the crests of the mountains 

10 were still bright in sunshine, while our deep glen was com- 
pletely shadowed. I left the camp, and climbed a neighbor- 
ing hill. The sun was still glaring through the stiff pines 
on the ridge of the western mountain. In a moment he was 
gone, and, as the landscape darkened, I turned again to- 

15 wards the village. As I descended, the howling of wolves 
and the barking of foxes came up out of the dim woods from 
far and near. The camp was glowing with a multitude of 
fires, and alive with dusky naked figures, whose tall shadows 
flitted, weird and ghost-like, among the surrounding crags. 

20 I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual place ; 
that is, on the ground before the lodge of a certain warrior, 
who seemed to be generally known for his social qualities. 
I sat down to smoke a parting pipe with my savage friends. 
That day was the first of August, on which I had promised 

25 to meet Shaw at Fort Laramie. The fort was less than two 
days' journey distant, and that my friend need not suffer 
anxiety on my account, I resolved to push forward as rap- 
idly as possible to the place of meeting. I went to look 
after the Hail-Storm, and having found him, I offered him 

30 a handful of hawks'-bells and a paper of vermilion, on con- 
dition that he would guide me in the morning through the 
mountains. 

The Hail-Storm ejaculated, '' How ! " and accepted the 
gift. Nothing more was said on either side ; the matter was 
settled, and I lay down to sleep in Kongra-Tonga's lodge. 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 249 

Long before daylight, Raymond shook nie by the 
shoulder. 

'"■ Everything is ready," he said. 

I went out. The morning was chill, damp, and dark ; and 
the whole camp seemed asleep. The Hail-Storm sat on 5 
horseback before the lodge, and my mare Pauline and the 
mule which Eaymond rode were picketed near it. We sad- 
dled and made our other arrangements for the journey, but 
before these were completed the camp began to stir, and 
the lodge-coverings fluttered and rustled as the squaws lo 
pulled them down in preparation for departure. Just as the 
light began to appear, we left the ground, passing up through 
a narrow opening among the rocks which led eastward out 
of the meadow. Gaining the top of this passage, I turned 
and sat looking back upon the camp, dimly visible in the 15 
gray light of morning. All was alive with the bustle of 
preparation. I turned away, half unwilling to take a final 
leave of my savage associates. We passed among rocks and 
pine-trees so dark that for a while we could scarcely see our 
way. The country in front was wild and broken, half hill, 20 
half plain, partly open and })artly covered with woods of pine 
and oak. Barriers of lofty mountains encompassed it ; the 
woods were fresh and cool in the early morning, the peaks 
of the mountains were wreathed with mist, and sluggish va- 
pors were entangled among the forests upon their sides. At 25 
length the black pinnacle of the tallest mountain was tipped 
with gold by the rising sun. The Hail-Storm, who rode in 
front, gave a low exclamation. Some large animal leaped 
up from among the bushes, and an elk, as I thought, his 
horns thrown back over his neck, darted past us across the 30 
open space, and bounded like a mad thing away among the 
adjoining pines. Raymond was soon out of his saddle, but 
before he could fire, the animal was full two hundred yards 
distant. The ball struck its mark, though much too low for 
mortal effect. The elk, however, wheeled in his flight, and 



250 THE OREGOX TRAIL 

ran at full speed among the trees, nearly at right angles to 
his former course. I fired and broke his shoulder ; still he 
moved on, limping down into a neighboring woody hollow, 
whither the young Indian followed and killed him. When 

5 we reached the spot, we discovered him to be no elk, but 
a black-tailed deer, an animal nearly twice as large as the 
common deer, and quite unknown in the east. The reports 
of the rifles had reached the ears of the Indians, and sev- 
eral of them came to the spot. Leaving the hide of the deer 

10 to the Hail-Storm, we hung as much of the meat as we 
wanted behind our saddles, left the rest to the Indians, and 
resumed our journey. Meanwhile the village was on its 
way, and had gone so far that to get in advance of it was 
impossible. We directed our course so as to strike its line 

15 of march at the nearest point. In a short time, through the 
dark trunks of the pines, we could see the figures of the 
Indians as they passed. Once more we were among them. 
They were moving with even more than their usual precipi- 
tation, crowded together in a narrow pass between rocks 

20 and old pine-trees. We were on the eastern descent of the 
mountain, and soon came to a rough and difficult defile, 
leading down a very steep declivity. The whole swarm 
poured down together, filling the rocky passage-way like 
some turbulent mountain-stream. The mountains before us 

25 were on fire, and had been so for weeks. The view in front 
was obscured by a vast dim sea of smoke, while on either 
hand rose the tall cliffs, bearing aloft their crests of pines, 
and the sharp pinnacles and broken ridges of the mountains 
beyond were faintly traceable as through a veil. The scene 

30 in itself was grand and imposing, but with the savage mul- 
titude, the armed warriors, the naked children, the gayly 
apparelled girls, pouring impetuously down the heights, 
it would have formed a noble subject for a painter, and 
only the pen of a Scott could have done it justice in de- 
scription. 



i 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 251 

We passed over a burnt tract where the ground was hot 
beneath the horses' feet, and between the blazing sides of 
two mountains. Before long we had descended to a softer 
region, where we found a succession of little valleys wa- 
tered by a stream, along the borders of which grew abun- 5 
dance of wild gooseberries and currants, and the children 
and many of the men straggled from the line of march to 
gather them as we passed along. Descending still farther, 
the view changed rapidly. The burning mountains were 
behind us, and through the open valleys in front we could 10 
see the prairie, stretching like an ocean beyond the sight. 
After passing through a line of trees that skirted the brook, 
the Indians filed out upon the plains. I was thirsty and 
knelt down by the little stream to drink. As I mounted 
again, I very carelessly left my rifle among the grass, and, 15 
my thoughts being otherwise absorbed, I rode for some dis- 
tance before discovering its absence. I lost no time in turn- 
ing about and galloping back in search of it. Passing the 
line of Indians, I watched every warrior as he rode by me 
at a canter, and at length discovered my rifle in the hands 20 
of one of them, who, on my approaching to claim it, im- 
mediately gave it up. Having no other means of acknowl- 
edging the obligation, I took off one of my spurs and gave 
it to him. He was greatly delighted, looking upon it as a 
distinguished mark of favor, and immediately held out his 25 
foot for me to buckle it on. As soon as I had done so, he 
struck it with all his force into the side of his horse, which 
gave a violent leap. The Indian laughed and spurred 
harder than before. At this the horse shot away like an 
arrow, amid the screams and laughter of the squaws, and 30 
the ejaculations of the men, who exclaimed, " Washtay ! — 
Good ! " at the potent effect of my gift. The Indian had no 
saddle, and nothing in place of a bridle except a leather 
string tied around the horse's jaw. The animal was of 
course wholly uncontrollable, and stretched away at full 



252 THE OREGON TRAIL 

speed over the prairie, till he and his rider vanished be- 
hind a distant swell. I never saw the man again, but I 
presume no harm came to him. An Indian on horseback 
has more lives than a cat. 
5 The village encamped on the scorching prairie, close to 
the foot of the mountains. The heat was most intense and 
penetrating. The coverings of the lodgings were raised a 
foot or more from the ground, in order to procure some cir- 
culation of air ; and Reynal thought proper to lay aside his 

10 trapper's dress of buckskin and assume the very scanty cos- 
tume of an Indian. Thus elegantly attired, he stretched 
himself in his lodge on a buffalo-robe, alternately cursing 
the heat and puffing at the pipe which he and I passed be- 
tween us. There was present also a select circle of Indian 

15 friends and relatives. A small boiled puppy was served up 
as a parting feast, to which was added, by way of dessert, 
a wooden bowl of gooseberries from the mountains. 

" Look there," said Reynal, pointing out of the opening 
of his lodge ; " do you see that line of buttes about fifteen 

20 miles off ? Well, now do you see that farthest one, with 
the white speck on the face of it? Do 3^ou think you ever 
saw it before ? " 

'' It looks to me," said I, '' like the hill that we were 
'camped under when we were on Laramie Creek, six or 

25 eight weeks ago." 

" You 've hit it," answered Reynal. 

" Go and bring in the animals, Raymond," said I ; ''we '11 

'camp there to-night, and start for the fort in the morning." 

The mare and the mule were soon before the lodge. We 

30 saddled them, and in the mean time a number of Indians 
collected about us. The virtues of Pauline, my strong, fleet, 
and hardy little mare, were well known in camp, and several 
of the visitors were mounted upon good horses which they 
had brought me as presents. I promptly declined their offers, 
since accepting them would have involved the necessity 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS 253 

of transferring Pauline into their barbarous hands. We 
took leave of Reynal, but not of the Indians, who are accus- 
tomed to dispense with such superfluous ceremonies. Leav- 
ing the camp, we rode straight over the prairie towards the 
white-faced bluff, whose pale ridges swelled gently against 5 
the horizon, like a cloud. An Indian went with us, whose 
name I forget, though the ugliness of his face and the 
ghastly width of his mouth dwell vividly in my recollection. 
The antelope were numerous, but we did not heed them. 
We rode directly towards our destination, over the arid lo 
plains and barren hills ; until, late in the afternoon, half 
spent with heat, thirst, and fatigue, we saw a gladdening 
sight : the long line of trees and the deep gulf that mark 
the course of Laramie Creek. Passing through the growth 
of huge dilapidated old cotton-wood trees that bordered the 15 
creek, we rode across to the other side. The rapid and foam- 
ing waters were filled with fish playing and splashing in the 
shallows. As we gained the farther bank, our horses turned 
eagerly to drink, and we, kneeling on the sand, followed 
their example. We had not gone far before the scene began 20 
to grow familiar. 

" We are getting near home, Raymond," said I. 

There stood the big tree under which we had encamped 
so long ; there were the white cliffs that used to look down 
upon our tent when it stood at the bend of the creek ; there 25 
was the meadow in which our horses had grazed for weeks, 
and a little farther on, the prairie-dog village where I had 
beguiled many a languid hour in shooting the unfortunate 
inhabitants. 

'^ We are going to catch it now," said Raymond, turning .% 
his broad face up towards the sky. 

In truth, the cliffs and the meadow, the stream and the 
groves, were darkening fast. Black masses of cloud were 
swelling up in the south, and the thunder was growling 
ominously. 



254 THE OREGON TRAIL 

'' We will 'camp there," I said, pointing to a dense grove 
of trees lower down the stream. Eaymond and I turned 
towards it, but the Indian stopped and called earnestly after 
us. When we demanded what was the matter, he said that 
5 the ghosts of two warriors were always among those trees, 
and that if we slept there, they would scream and throw 
stones at us all night, and perhaps steal our horses before 
morning. Thinking it as well to humor him, we left behind 
us the haunt of these extraordinary ghosts, and passed on 

10 towards Chugwater, riding at full gallop, for the big drops 
began to patter down. Soon we came in sight of the poplar 
saplings that grew about the mouth of the little stream. We 
leaped to the ground, threw off our saddles, turned our horses 
loose, and drawing our knives began to slash among the bushes 

15 to cut twigs and branches for making a shelter against the 
rain. Bending down the taller saplings as they grew, we piled 
the young shoots upon them, and thus made a convenient 
pent-house ; but our labor was needless. The storm scarcely 
touched us. Half a mile on our right the rain was pouring 

20 down like a cataract, and the thunder roared over the prairie 
like a battery of cannon ; while we by good fortune received 
only a few heavy drops from the skirt of the passing cloud. 
The weather cleared and the sun set gloriously. Sitting 
close under our leafy canopy, we proceeded to discuss a sub- 

25 stantial meal of wasna which Weah Washtay had given me. 
The Indian had brought with him his pipe and a bag of 
shongsasha ; so before lying down to sleep, we sat for some 
time smoking together. First, however, our wide-mouthed 
friend had taken the precaution of carefully examining the 

30 neighborhood. He reported that eight men, counting them 
on his fingers, had been encamped there not long before, 
— Bisonette, Paul Dorion, Antoine Le Rouge, Richardson, 
and four others, whose names he could not tell. All this 
proved strictly correct. By what instinct he had arrived at 
such accurate conclusions, I am utterly at a loss to divine. 



PASSAGE OF THE INIOUNTAINS 255 

It was still quite dark when I awoke aPxd called Raymond. 
The Indian was already gone, having chosen to go on before 
us to the fort. Setting out after him, we rode for some time 
in complete darkness, and when the sun at length rose, 
glowing like a fiery ball of copper, we were within ten miles 5 
of the fort. At length, from the summit of a sandy bluff, 
we could see Fort Laramie, miles before us, standing by the 
side of the stream like a little gray speck, in the midst of 
the boundless desolation. I stopped my horse, and sat for 
a moment looking down upon it. It seemed to me the very 10 
centre of comfort and civilization. We were not long in ap- 
proaching it, for we rode at speed the greater part of the 
way. Laramie Creek still intervened between us and the 
friendly walls. Entering the water at the point where we 
had struck upon the bank, we raised our feet to the saddle 15 
behind us, and thus kneeling as it were on horseback, passed 
dry-shod through the swift current. As we rode up the 
bank, a number of men appeared in the gateway. Three of 
them came forward to meet us. In a moment I distinguished 
Shaw; Henry Chatillon followed, with his face of manly 20 
simplicity and frankness, and Deslauriers came last, with a 
broad grin of welcome. The meeting was not on either side 
one of mere ceremony. For my own part, the change was 
a most agreeable one, from the society of savages and men 
little better than savages, to that of my gallant and high- 25 
minded companion, and our noble-hearted guide. My ap- 
pearance was equally welcome to Shaw, who was beginning to 
entertain some very uncomfortable surmises concerning me. 

Bordeaux greeted me cordially, and shouted to the cook. 
This functionary was a new acquisition, having lately come 30 
from Fort Pierre with the trading wagons. Whatever skill 
he might have boasted, he had not the most promising ma- 
terials to exercise it upon. He set before me, however, a 
breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and salt pork. It seemed like a 
new phase of existence, to be seated once more on a bench, 



256 THE OREGON TRAIL 

with a knife and fork, a plate and teacup, and something 
resembling a table before me. The coffee seemed delicious, 
and the bread was a most welcome novelty, since for three 
weeks I had tasted scarcely anything but meat, and that for 

5 the most part without salt. The meal also had the relish of 
good company, for opposite to me sat Shaw in elegant dis- 
habille. If one is anxious thoroughly to appreciate the value 
of a congenial companion, he has only to spend a few weeks 
by himself in an Ogillallah village. And if he can contrive 

10 to add to his seclusion a debilitating and somewhat critical 
illness, his perceptions upon this subject will be rendered 
considerably more vivid. 

Shaw had been two or three weeks at the fort. I found 
him established in his old quarters, — a large apartment 

15 usually occupied by the absent bourgeois. In one corner was 
a soft pile of excellent buffalo-robes, and here I lay down. 
Shaw brought me three books. 

" Here," said he, " is your Shakespeare and Byron, and 
here is the Old Testament, which has as much poetry in it 

20 as the other two put together." 

I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater part of 
that day I lay on the buffalo-robes, fairly revelling in the 
creations of that resplendent genius which has achieved 
no more signal triumph than that of half beguiling us to 
forget the unmanly character of its possessor. 



CHAPTER XX 
THE LONELY JOURNEY 

On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and I 
were lounging on two buffalo-robes in the large apartment 
hospitably assigned to us ; Henry Chatillon also was present, 
busy about the harness and weapons, which had been brought 
into the room, and two or three Indians were crouching on 5 
the floor, eying us with their fixed, unwavering gaze. 

" I have been well off here," said Shaw, '' in all respects 
but one ; there is no good shongsasha to be had for love or 
money." 

I gave him a small leather bag containing some of excel- lo 
lent quality, which I had brought from the Black Hills. 
" I^ow, Henry," said he, " hand me Papin's chopping-board, 
or give it to that Indian, and let him cut the mixture ; they 
understand it better than any white man." 

The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark and 15 
the tobacco in due proportions, filled the pipe, and lighted 
it. This done, my companion and I proceeded to deliberate 
on our future course of proceeding ; first, however, Shaw 
acquainted me with some incidents which had occurred at 
the fort during my absence. 20 

About a week before, four men had arrived from beyond 
the mountains : Sublette, Reddick, and two others. Just 
before reaching the fort, they had met a large party of 
Indians, chiefly young men. All of them belonged to the 
village of our old friend Smoke, who, with his whole band 25 
of adherents, professed the greatest friendship for the whites. 
The travellers therefore approached and began to converse 
without the least suspicion. Suddenly, however, their bridles 

257 



258 THE OREGON TRAIL 

were seized, and they were ordered to dismount. Instead of 
complying, they lashed their horses, and broke away from 
the Indians. As they galloped off, they heard a yell behind 
them, with a burst of derisive laughter, and the reports of 

5 several guns. Kone of them were hurt, though Eeddick's 
bridle-rein was cut by a bullet within an inch of his hand. 
After this taste of Indian manners, they felt for the moment 
no disposition to encounter farther risks. They intended to 
pursue the route southward along the foot of the mountains 

10 to Bent's Fort ; and as our plans coincided with theirs, they 
proposed to join forces. Finding, however, that I did not 
return, they grew impatient of inaction, forgot their late 
danger, and set out without us, promising to wait our ar- 
rival at Bent's Fort. From thence we were to make the long 

15 journey to the settlements in company, as the path was not 
a little dangerous, being infested by hostile Pawnees and 
Camanches. 

We expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find there still 
another reinforcement. A young Kentuckian had come out 

20 to the mountains with Russel's party of California emigrants. 
One of his chief objects, as he gave out, was to kill an Indian ; 
an exploit which he afterwards succeeded in achieving, much 
to the jeopardy of ourselves, and others who had to pass 
through the country of the dead Pawnee's enraged relatives. 

25 Having become disgusted with his emigrant associates, he 
left them, and had some time before set out with a party of 
companions for the head of the Arkansas. He left us a letter, 
to say that he would wait until we arrived at Bent's Fort, 
and accompany us thence to the settlements. When, however, 

30 he came to the fort, he found there a i:>arty of forty men 
about to make the homeward journey, and wisely preferred 
to avail himself of so strong an escort. Sublette and his com- 
panions also joined this company; so that on reaching Bent's 
Fort, some six weeks after, we found ourselves deserted by 
our allies and thrown once more upon our own resources. 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 259 

On the fourth of August, early in the afternoon, we bade 
a final adieu to the hospitable gateway of Fort Laramie. 
Again Shaw and I were riding side by side on the prairie. 
For the first fifty miles we had companions with us : Troche, 
a trapper, and Kouville, a nondescript in the employ of the 5 
Fur Company, who were going to join the trader Bisonette 
at his encampment near the head of Horse Creek. We rode 
only six or eight miles that afternoon before we came to a 
little brook traversing the barren prairie. All along its course 
grew copses of young wild-cherry trees, loaded with ripe 10 
fruit, and almost concealing the gliding thread of water 
with their dense growth. Here we encamped ; and being 
too indolent to pitch our tent, we flung our saddles on the 
ground, spread a pair of buffalo-robes, lay down upon them, 
and began to smoke. Meanwhile Deslauriers busied himself 15 
with his frying-pan, and Eaymond stood guard over the 
band of grazing horses. Deslauriers had an active assistant 
in Rouville, who professed great skill in the culinary art, 
and, seizing upon a fork, began to lend his aid in cooking 
supper. Indeed, according to his own belief, Rouville was a 20 
man of universal knowledge, and he lost no opportunity to 
display his manifold accomplishments. He had been a circus- 
rider at St. Louis, and once he rode round Fort Laramie on 
his head, to the utter bewilderment of the Indians. He was 
also noted as the wit of the fort ; and as he had consider- 125 
able humor and abundant vivacity, he contributed more that 
night to the liveliness of the camp than all the rest of the 
party put together. At one instant he would kneel b}' 
Deslauriers, instructing him in the true method of frying 
antelope-steaks, then he would come and seat himself at our 30 
side, dilating upon the correct fashion of braiding up a 
horse's tail, telling apocryphal stories how he had killed a 
buffalo bull with a knife, having first cut off his tail when at 
full speed, or relating whimsical anecdotes of the hourgeols 
Papin. At last he snatched up a volume of Shakespeare 



260 THE OREGON TRAIL 

that was lying on the grass, and halted and stumbled through 
a line or two to prove that he could read. He went gambol- 
ling about the camp, chattering like some frolicsome ape ; and 
whatever he was doing at one moment, the presumption 

5 was a sure one that he would not be doing it the next. His 
companion Troche sat silently on the grass, not speaking a 
word, but keeping a vigilant eye on a very ugly little Utah 
squaw, of whom he was extremely jealous. 

On the next day we travelled farther, crossing the wide 

10 sterile basin called '' Goche's Hole." Towards night we be- 
came involved among ravines ; and being unable to find 
water, our journey was protracted to a very late hour. On 
the next morning we had to pass a long line of bluffs, whose 
raw sides, wrought upon by rains and storms, were of a 

15 ghastly whiteness most oppressive to the sight. As we 
ascended a gap in these hills, the way was marked by huge 
footprints, like those of a human giant. They were the 
tracks of the grizzly bear, of which we had also seen abun- 
dance on the day before. Immediately after this we were 

20 crossing a barren plain, spreading in long and gentle undu- 
lations to the horizon. Though the sun was bright, there 
was a light haze in the atmosphere. The distant hills as- 
sumed strange, distorted forms in the mirage, and the edge 
of the horizon was continually changing its aspect. Shaw 

25 and I were riding together, and Henry Chatillon was a few 
rods before us, when he stopped his horse suddenly, and 
turning round with the peculiar earnest expression which 
he always wore when excited, called us to come forward. 
We galloped to his side. Henry pointed towards a black 

30 speck on the grey swell of the prairie, apparently about a 
mile off. " It must be a bear," said he ; " come, now we 
shall all have some sport. Better fun to fight him than to 
fight an old buffalo bull ; grizzly bear so strong and smart." 
So we all galloped forward together, prepared for a hard 
fight ; for these bears, though clumsy in appearance, are 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 261 

incredibly fierce and active. The swell of the prairie concealed 
the black object from our view. Immediately after it ap- 
peared again. But now it seemed very near to us ; and as 
we looked at it in astonishment, it suddenly separated into 
two parts, each of which took wing and flew away. We 5 
stopped our horses and looked at Henry, whose face exhib- 
ited a curious mixture of mirth and mortification. His eye 
had been so completely deceived by the peculiar atmosphere 
that he had mistaken two large crows at the distance of fifty 
rods for a grizzly bear a mile off. To the journey's end lo 
Henry never heard the last of the grizzly bear with wings. 
In the afternoon we came to the foot of a considerable 
hill. As we ascended it, Rouville began to ask questions 
concerning our condition and prospects at home, and Shaw 
was edifying him with an account of an imaginary wife and 15 
child, to which he listened with implicit faith. Reaching 
the top of the hill, we saw the windings of Horse Creek on 
the plains below us, and a little on the left we could distin- 
guish the camp of Bisonette among the trees and copses 
along the course of the stream. Eouville's face assumed 20 
just then a ludicrously blank expression. We inquired what 
was the matter ; when it appeared that Bisonette had sent 
him from this place to Fort Laramie with the sole object of 
bringing back a supply of tobacco. Our rattlebrain friend, 
from the time of his reaching the fort up to the present 25 
moment, had entirely forgotten the object of his journey, 
and had ridden a dangerous hundred miles for nothing. De- 
scending to Horse Creek, we forded it, and on the opposite 
bank a solitary Indian sat on horseback under a tree. He 
said nothing, but turned and led the way towards the camp. 30 
Bisonette had made choice of an admirable position. The 
stream, with its thick growth of trees, enclosed on three 
sides a wide green meadow, where about forty Dahcotah 
lodges were pitched in a circle, and beyond them a few 
lodges of the friendly Shiennes. Bisonette himself lived in 



262 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the Indian manner. Riding up to his lodge, we found him 
seated at the head of it, surrounded by various appliances 
of comfort not common on the prairie. His squaw was near 
him, and rosy children were scrambling about in printed 

5 calico gowns ; Paul Dorion, also, with his leathery face and 
old white capote, was seated in the lodge, together with 
Antoine Le Rouge, a half-breed Pawnee, Sibille, a trader, 
and several other white men. 

" It will do you no harm," said Bisonette, '^ to stay here 

10 with us for a day or two, before you start for the Pueblo." 
We accepted the invitation, and pitched our tent on a ris- 
ing ground above the camp and close to the trees. Bisonette 
soon invited us to a feast, and we suffered abundance of the 
same sort of attention from his Indian associates. The 

15 reader may possibly recollect that when I joined the Indian 
village, beyond the Black Hills, I found that a few families 
were absent, having declined to pass the mountains along 
with the rest. The Indians in Bisonette's camp consisted 
of these very families, and many of them came to me that 

20 evening to inquire after their relatives and friends. They 
were not a little mortified to learn that while they, from 
their own timidity and indolence, were almost in a starving 
condition, the rest of the village had provided their lodges 
for the next season, laid in a great stock of provisions, and 

25 were living in abundance. Bisonette's companions had been 
sustaining themselves for some time on wild cherries, which 
the squaws pounded, stones and all, and spread on buffalo- 
robes to dry in the sun ; they were then eaten without 
farther preparation, or used as an ingredient in various 

30 delectable compounds. 

On the next day, the camp was in commotion with a new 
arrival. A single Indian had come with his family from the 
Arkansas. As he passed among the lodges, he put on an ex- 
pression of unusual dignity and importance, and gave out 
that he had brought great news to tell the whites. Soon 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 263 

after the squaws had pitched his lodge, he sent his little son 
to invite all the white men and all the more distinguished 
Indians to a feast. The guests arrived and sat wedged to- 
gether, shoulder to shoulder, within the hot and suffocat- 
ing lodge. The Stabber, for that was our entertainer's 5 
name, had killed an old buffalo bull on his way. This vet- 
eran's boiled tripe, tougher than leather, formed the main 
item of the repast. For the rest, it consisted of wild cherries 
and grease boiled together in a large copper kettle. The 
feast was distributed, and for a moment all was silent, stren- lo 
uous exertion ; then each guest, though with one or two ex- 
ceptions, turned his wooden dish bottom upwards , to prove 
that he had done full justice to his entertainer's hospitality. 
The Stabber next produced his chopping-board, on which he 
prepared the mixture for smoking, and filled several pipes, 15 
which circulated among the company. This done, he seated 
himself upright on his couch, and began with much gesticu- 
lation to tell his story. I will not repeat his childish jargon. 
It was so entangled, like the greater part of an Indian's 
stories, with absurd and contradictory details, that it was 20 
almost impossible to disengage from it a single particle of 
truth. All that we could gather was the following : — 

He had been on the Arkansas, and there he had seen six 
great war-parties of whites. He had never believed before 
that the whole world contained half so many white men. 25 
They all had large horses, long knives, and short rifles, and 
some of them were dressed alike in the most splendid war- 
dresses he had ever seen. From this account it was clear 
that bodies of dragoons and perhaps also of volunteer cav- 
alry had passed up the Arkansas. The Stabber had also seen 30 
a great many of the white lodges of the Meneaska, drawn by 
their long-horned buffalo. These could be nothing else than 
covered ox-wagons, used, no doubt, in transporting stores 
for the troops. Soon after seeing this, our host had met 
an Indian who had lately come from among the Camanches, 



264 THE OREGOX TRAIL 

who had told him that all the Mexicans had gone out to 
a great buffalo hunt ; that the Americans had hid them- 
selves in a ravine ; and that when the Mexicans had shot 
away all their arrows, the Americans fired their guns, raised 

5 their war-whoop, rushed out, and killed them all. We could 
only infer from this, that war had been declared with Mex- 
ico, and a battle fought in which the Americans were victo- 
rious. When, some weeks after, we arrived at the Pueblo, 
we heard of General Kearney's march up the Arkansas, and 

10 of General Taylor's victories at Matamoras. 

As the sun was setting that evening a crowd gathered on 
the plain by the side of our tent, to try the speed of their 
horses. These were of every shape, size, and color. Some 
came from California, some from the States, some from 

15 among the mountains, and some from the wild bands of the 
prairie. They were of every hue, white, black, red, and gray, 
or mottled and clouded with a strange variety of colors. 
They all had a wild and startled look, very different from 
the sober aspect of a well-bred city steed. Those most noted 

20 for swiftness and spirit were decorated with eagle feathers 
dangling from their manes and tails. Fifty or sixty Dahco- 
tah were present, wrapped from head to foot in their heavy 
robes of whitened hide. There were also a considerable 
number of the Shiennes, many of whom wore gaudy Mexi- 

25 can ponchos, swathed around their shoulders, but leaving 
the right arm bare. Mingled among the crowd of Indians 
was a number of Canadians, chiefly in the employ of Biso- 
nette, — men whose home is the wilderness, and who love 
the camp-fire better than the domestic hearth. They are con- 

30 tented and happy in the midst of hardship, privation, and 
danger. Their cheerfulness and gayety is irrepressible, and 
no people on earth understand better how " to daff the 
world aside and bid it pass." Besides these, were two or 
three half-breeds, a race of rather extraordinary composi- 
tion, being according to the common saying half Indian, 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 265 

half white man, and half devil. Antoine Le Rouge was the 
most conspicuous among them, with his loose trousers and 
fluttering calico shirt. A handkerchief was bound round his 
head to confine his black snaky hair, and his small eyes 
twinkled beneath it with a mischievous lustre. He had a 5 
fine cream-colored horse, whose speed he must needs try 
along with the rest. So he threw off the rude high-peaked 
saddle, and substituting a piece of buffalo-robe, leaped 
lightly into his seat. The space was cleared, the word was 
given, and he and his Indian rival darted out like lightning lo 
from among the crowd, each stretching forward over his 
horse's neck and plying his heavy Indian whip with might 
and main. A moment, and both were lost in the gloom ; but 
Antoine soon came riding back victorious, exultingly patting 
the neck of his quivering and panting hprse. 15 

About midnight, as I lay asleep, wrapped in a buffalo- 
robe on the ground by the side of our cart, Raymond came 
and woke me. Something, he said, was going forward which 
I would like to see. Looking down into the camp, I saw on the 
farther side of it a great number of Indians gathered about 20 
a fire, the bright glare of which made them visible through 
the thick darkness ; while from the midst proceeded a loud, 
measured chant which would have killed Paganini outright, 
broken occasionally by a burst of sharp yells. I gathered 
the robe around me, for the night was cold, and walked 25 
down to the spot. The dark throng of Indians was so dense 
that they almost intercepted the light of the flame. As I 
was pushing amo^ig them with little ceremony, a chief in- 
terposed himself, and I was given to understand that a white 
man must not approach the scene of their solemnities too 30 
closely. By passing round to the other side where there 
was a little opening in the crowd, I could see clearly what 
was going forward, without intruding my unhallowed pres- 
ence into the inner circle. The society of the " Strong 
Hearts " were engaged in one of their dances. The '' Strong 



266 THE OKEGON TRAIL 

Hearts " are a warlike association, comprising men of both 
the Dahcotah and Shienne nations, and entirely composed, 
or supposed to be so, of young braves of the highest mettle. 
Its fundamental principle is the admirable one of never re- 
5 treating from any enterprise once begun. All these Indian 
associations have a tutelary spirit. That of the Strong 
Hearts is embodied in the fox, an animal which white men 
would hardly have selected for a similar purpose, though 
his subtle character agrees well enough with an Indian's 

10 notions of what is honorable in warfare. The dancers were 
circling round and round the fire, each figure brightly illu- 
mined at one moment by the yellow light, and at the next 
drawn in blackest shadow as it passed between the flame 
and the spectator. They would imitate with the most ludi- 

15 crous exactness the motions and voice of their sly patron 
the fox. Then a startling yell would be given. Many other 
warriors would leap into the ring, and with faces upturned 
towards the starless sky, they would all stamp, and whoop, 
and brandish their weapons like so many frantic devils. 

20 We remained here till the next afternoon. My com- 
panion and I with our three attendants then set out for the 
Pueblo, a distance of three hundred miles, and we supposed 
the journey would occupy about a fortnight. During this 
time we all hoped that we might not meet a single human 

25 being, for should we encounter any, they would in all prob- 
ability be enemies, in whose eyes our rifles would be our 
only passports. For the first two days nothing worth men- 
tioning took place. On the third morning, however, an un- 
toward incident occurred. We were encamped by the side 

30 of a little brook in an extensive hollow of the plain. Des- 
lauriers w^^s up long before daylight, and before he began 
to prepare breakfast he turned loose all the horses, as in 
duty bound. There was a cold mist clinging close to the 
ground, and by the time the rest of us were awake the ani- 
mals were invisible. It was only after a long and anxious 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 267 

search that we could discover by their tracks the direction 
they had taken. They had all set off for Fort Laramie, fol- 
lowing the guidance of a mutinous old mule, and though 
many of them were hobbled, they travelled three miles 
before they could be overtaken and driven back. 5 

For two or three days, we were passing over an arid 
desert. The only vegetation was a few tufts of short grass, 
dried and shrivelled by the heat. There was abundance of 
strange insects and reptiles. Huge crickets, black and bottle 
green, and wingless grasshoppers of the most extravagant di- 10 
mensions, were tumbling about our horses' feet, and lizards 
without number darting like lightning among the tufts of 
grass. The most curious animal, however, was that com- 
monly called the horned-frog. I caught one of them and 
consigned him to the care of Deslauriers, who tied him up 15 
in a moccason. About a month after this, I examined the 
prisoner's condition, and finding him still lively and active, 
I provided him with a cage of buffalo-hide, which was hung 
up in the cart. In this manner he arrived safely at the settle- 
ments. From thence he travelled the whole way to Boston, 20 
packed closely in a trunk, being regaled with fresh air regu- 
larly every night. When he reached his destination he 
was deposited under a glass case, w^here he sat for some 
months in great tranquillity, alternately dilating and con- 
tracting his white throat to the admiration of his visitors. 25 
At length, one morning about the middle of winter, he gave 
up the ghost, and he now occupies a bottle of alcohol in the 
Agassiz Museum. His death was attributed to starvation, a 
very probable conclusion, since for six months he had taken 
no food whatever, though the sympathy of his juvenile ad- 30 
mirers had tempted his palate with a great variety of deli- 
cacies. We found also animals of a somewhat larger growth. 
The number of prairie-dogs was astounding. Frequently the 
hard and dry plain was thickly covered, for miles together, 
with the little mounds which they make at the mouth of 



268 THE OREGON TRAIL 

their burrows, and small squeaking voices yelped at us, as 
we passed along. The noses of the inhabitants were just 
visible at the mouth of their holes, but no sooner was their 
curiosity satisfied than they would instantly vanish. Some 

5 of the bolder dogs — though in fact they are no dogs at all, 
but little marmots rather smaller than a rabbit — would sit 
yelping at us on the top of their mounds, jerking their tails 
emphatically with every shrill cry they uttered. As the 
danger drew nearer they would wheel about, toss their heels 

10 into the air, and dive in a twinkling into their burrows. 
Towards sunset, and especially if rain was threatening, the 
whole community made their appearance above ground. We 
saw them gathered in large knots around the burrow of 
some favorite citizen. There they would all sit erect, their 

15 tails spread out on the ground, and their paws hanging 
down before their white breasts, chattering and squeaking 
with the utmost vivacity upon some topic of common inter- 
est, while the proprietor of the burrow sat on the top of his 
mound, looking down with a complacent countenance on the 

20 enjoyment of his guests. Meanwhile, others ran about from 
burrow to burrow, as if on some errand of the last impor- 
tance to their subterranean commonwealth. The snakes are 
apparently the prairie-dog's worst enemies ; at least I think 
too well of the latter to suppose that they associate on 

25 friendly terms with these slimy intruders, which may be 
seen at all times basking among their holes, into which they 
always retreat when disturbed. Small owls, with wise and 
grave countenances, also make their abode with the prairie- 
dogs, though on what terms they live together I could never 

30 ascertain. 

On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette's camp, we saw, 
late in the afternoon, what we supposed to be a considerable 
stream, but on approaching it, we found to our mortification 
nothing but a dry bed of sand, into which the water had 
sunk and disappeared. We separated, some riding in one 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 269 

direction and some in another, along its course. Still we 
found no traces of water, not even so much as a wet spot in 
the sand. The old cotton-wood trees that grew along the 
bank, lamentably abused by lightning and tempest, were 
withering with the drought, and on the dead limbs, at the 5 
summit of the tallest, half a dozen crows were hoarsely 
cawing, like birds of evil omen. We had no alternative but 
to keep on. There was no water nearer than the South Fork 
of the Platte, about ten miles distant. We moved forward, 
angry and silent, over a desert as flat as the outspread ocean, lo 

The sky had been obscured since the morning by thin 
mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds were gath- 
ered together in the west. They rose to a great height above 
the horizon, and looking up at them I distinguished one 
mass darker than the rest, and of a peculiar conical form. 15 
I happened to look again, and still could see it as before. 
At some moments it was dimly visible, at others its outline 
was sharp and distinct ; but while the clouds around it were 
shifting, changing, and dissolving away, it still towered 
aloft in the midst of them, fixed and immovable. It must, 20 
thought I, be the summit of a mountain ; and yet its height 
staggered me. My conclusion was right, however. It was 
Long's Peak, once believed to be one of the highest of the 
Rocky Mountain chain, though more recent discoveries have 
proved the contrary. The thickening gloom soon hid it from 25 
view, and we never saw it again, for on the following day, 
and for some time after, the air was so full of mist that the 
view of distant objects was entirely cut off. 

It grew very late. Turning from our direct course, we 
made for the river at its nearest point, though in the utter 30 
darkness it was not easy to direct our way with much pre- 
cision. Raymond rode on one side and Henry on the other. 
We heard each of them shouting that he had come upon a 
deep ravine. We steered at random between Scylla and 
Charybdis, and soon after became, as it seemed, inextricably 



270 THE OREGON TRAIL 

involved with deep chasms all around us, while the darkness 
was such that we could not see a rod in any direction. We 
partially extricated ourselves by scrambling, cart and all, 
through a shallow ravine. We came next to a steep descent, 
5 down which we plunged without well knowing what was at 
the bottom. There was a great cracking of sticks and dry 
twigs. Over our heads were certain large shadowy objects ; 
and in front something like the faint gleaming of a dark 
sheet of water. Raymond ran his horse against a tree ; 

10 Henry alighted, and, feeling on the ground, declared that 
there was grass enough for the horses. Before taking off 
his saddle, each man led his own horses down to the water 
in the best way he could. Then picketing two or three of 
the evil-disposed, we turned the rest loose, and lay down 

15 among the dry sticks to sleep. In the morning we found 
ourselves close to the South Fork of the Platte, on a spot 
surrounded by bushes and rank grass. Compensating our- 
selves with a hearty breakfast for the ill-fare of the previous 
night, we set forward again on our journey. When only two 

20 or three rods from the camp, I saw Shaw stop his mule, 
level his gun, and fire at some object in the grass. Deslau- 
riers next jumped forward, and began to dance about, be- 
laboring the unseen enemy with a whip. Then he stooped 
down, and drew out of the grass by the neck an enormous 

25 rattlesnake, with his head completely shattered by Shaw's 

• bullet. As Deslauriers held him out at arm's length with an 
exulting grin, his tail, which still kept slowly writhing about, 
almost touched the ground ; and his body in the largest 
part was as thick as a stout man's arm. He had fourteen 

30 rattles, but the end of his tail was blunted, as if he could 
once have boasted of many more. From this time till we 
reached the Pueblo, we killed at least four or live of these 
snakes every day, as they lay coiled and rattling on the hot 
sand. Shaw was the St. Patrick of the party, and whenever 
he killed a snake he pulled off his tail and stored it away in 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 271 

his bullet-pouch, which was soon crammed with an edifying 
collection of rattles, great and small. Deslauriers with his 
whip also came in for a share of praise. A day or two after 
this, he triumphantly produced a small snake about a span 
and a half long, with one infant rattle at the end of his tail. 5 

AYe forded the South Fork of the Platte. On its farther 
bank were the traces of a very large camp of Arapahoes. 
The ashes of some three hundred fires were visible among 
the scattered trees, together with the remains of sweating 
lodges, and all the other appurtenances of a permanent lo 
camp. The place, however, had been for some months de- 
serted. A few miles farther on we found more recent signs 
of Indians ; the trail of two or three lodges, which had evi- 
dently passed the day before ; every footprint was perfectly 
distinct in the dry, dusty soil. We noticed in particular the 15 
track of one moccason, upon the sole of which its economi- 
cal proprietor had placed a large patch. These signs gave 
us but little uneasiness, as the number of the warriors 
scarcely exceeded that of our own party. At noon we rested 
under the walls of a large fort, built in these solitudes some 20 
years since by M. St. Vrain. It was now abandoned and fast 
falling into ruin. The walls of unbaked bricks were cracked 
from top to bottom. Our horses recoiled in terror from the 
neglected entrance, where the heavy gates were torn from 
their hinges and flung down. The area within was overgrown 25 
with weeds, and the long ranges of apartments once occupied 
by the motley concourse of traders, Canadians, and squaws, 
were now miserably dilapidated. Twelve miles farther on, 
near the spot where we encamped, were the remains of an- 
other fort, standing in melancholy desertion and neglect. 30 

Early on the following morning we made a startling dis- 
covery. We passed close by a large deserted encampment 
of Arapahoes. There were about fifty fires still smouldering 
on the ground, and it was evident from numerous signs that 
the Indians must have left the place within two hours of 



272 THE OREGON TRAIL 

our reaching it. Their trail crossed our own, at right angles, 
and led in the direction of a line of hills, half a mile on our 
left. There were women and children in the party, which 
would have greatly diminished the danger of encountering 

5 them. Henry Chatillon examined the encampment and the 
trail with a very professional and business-like air. 
" Supposing we had met them, Henry ? " said I. 
"Why," said he, " we hold out our hands to them, and 
give them all we've got; they take away everything, and 

10 then I believe they no kill us. Perhaps," added he, looking 
up with a quiet, unchanged face, " perhaps we no let them 
rob us. Maybe before they come near, we have a chance to 
get into a ravine, or under the bank of the river ; then, you 
know, we fight them." 

15 About noon on that day we reached Cherry Creek. Here 
was a great abundance of wild cherries, plums, gooseberries, 
and currants. The stream, however, like most of the others 
which we passed, was dried up with the heat, and we had to 
dig holes in the sand to find water for ourselves and our 

20 horses. Two days after, we left the banks of the creek, 
which we had been following for some time, and began to 
cross the high dividing ridge which separates the waters of 
the Platte from those of the Arkansas. The scenery was al- 
together changed. In place of the burning plains, we passed 

25 through rough and savage glens, and among hills crowned 
with a dreary growth of pines. We encamped among these 
solitudes on the night of the sixteenth of August. A tem- 
pest was threatening. The sun went down among vol- 
umes of jet-black cloud, edged with a bloody red. But in 

30 spite of these portentous signs, we neglected to put up the 
tent, and, being extremely fatigued, lay down on the ground 
and fell asleep. The storm broke about midnight, and we 
pitched the tent amid darkness and confusion. In the morn- 
ing all was fair again, and Pike's Peak, white with snow, 
was towering above the wilderness afar off. 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 273 

We pushed through an extensive tract of pine woods. 
Large black-squirrels were leaping among the branches. 
From the farther edge of this forest we saw the prairie 
again, hollowed out before us into a vast basin, and about 
a mile in front we could discern a little black speck moving 5 
upon its surface. It could be nothing but a buffalo. Henry 
primed his rifle afresh and galloped forward. To the left 
of the animal was a low rocky mound, of which Henry 
availed himself in making his approach. After a short time 
we heard the faint report of the rifle. The bull, mortally lo 
wounded from a distance of nearly three hundred yards, 
ran wildly round and round in a circle. Shaw and I then 
galloped forward, and passing him as he ran, foaming with 
rage and pain, discharged our pistols into his side. Once or 
twice he rushed furiously upon us, but his strength was 15 
rapidly exhausted. Down he fell on his knees. For one 
instant he glared up at his enemies, with burning eyes, 
through his black tangled mane, and then rolled over on his 
side. Though gaunt and thin, he was larger and heavier 
than the largest ox. Foam and blood flowed together from 20 
his nostrils as he lay bellowing and pawing the ground, 
tearing up grass and earth with his hoofs. His sides rose 
and fell like a vast pair of bellows, the blood spouting up 
in jets from the bullet-holes. Suddenly his glaring eyes be- 
came like a lifeless jelly. He lay motionless on the ground. 25 
Henry stooped over him, and, making an incision with his 
knife, pronounced the meat too rank and tough for use ; so, 
disappointed in our hopes of an addition to our stock of 
provisions, we rode away and left the carcass to the wolves. 

In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like a gi- 30 
gantic wall at no great distance on our right. '' Des sauvages! 
des sauvages ! ^^ exclaimed Deslauriers, looking round with 
a frightened face, and pointing with his whip towards the 
foot of the mountains. In fact, we could see at a distance a 
number of little black specks, like horsemen in rapid motion. 



274 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Henry Chatillon, with Shaw and myself, galloped towards 
them to reconnoitre, when to our amusement we saw the 
supposed Arapahoes resolved into the black tops of some 
pine-trees which grew along a ravine. The summits of these 

5 pines, just visible above the verge of the prairie, and seem- 
ing to move as we ourselves were advancing, looked exactly 
like a line of horsemen. 

We encamped among ravines and hollows, through which 
a little brook was foaming angrily. Before sunrise in the 

10 morning the snow-covered mountains were beautifully tinged 
with a delicate rose-color. A noble spectacle awaited us as 
we moved forward. Six or eight miles on our right. Pike's 
Peak and his giant brethren rose out of the level prairie, as 
if springing from the bed of the ocean. From their summits 

15 down to the plain below they were involved in a mantle of 
clouds, in restless motion, as if urged by strong winds. For 
one instant some snowy peak, towering in awful solitude, 
would be disclosed to view. As the clouds broke along the 
mountain, we could see the dreary forests, the tremendous 

20 precipices, the white patches of snow, the gulfs and chasms 
as black as night, all revealed for an instant, and then dis- 
appearing from the view. 

On the day after, we had left the mountains at some 
distance. A black cloud descended upon them, and a tre- 

25 mendous explosion of thunder followed, reverberating among 
the i^recipices. In a few moments everything grew black, 
and the rain poured down like a cataract. We got under an 
old cotton-wood tree, which stood by the side of a stream, 
and waited there till the rage of the torrent had passed. 

30 The clouds opened at the point where they first had 
gathered, and the whole sublime congregation of mountains 
was bathed at once in warm sunshine. They seemed more 
like some vision of eastern romance than like a reality of 
that wilderness ; all were melted together into a soft deli- 
cious blue, as voluptuous as the sky of Naples or the 



w 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 275 

transparent sea that washes the sunny cliffs of Capri. On 
the left the sky was still of an inky blackness ; but two con- 
centric rainbows stood in bright relief against it, while far 
in front the ragged clouds still streamed before the wind, 
and the retreating thunder muttered angrily. 5 

Through that afternoon and the next morning we were 
passing down the banks of the stream, called '' Boiling 
Spring Creek," from the boiling spring whose waters flow 
into it. When we stopped at noon, we were within six or 
eight miles of the Pueblo. Setting out again, we found by lo 
the fresh tracks that a horseman had just been out to recon- 
noitre us ; he had circled half round the camp, and then 
galloped back at full speed for the Pueblo. What made him 
so shy of us we could not conceive. After an hour's ride 
we reached the edge of a hill, from which a welcome sight 15 
greeted us. The Arkansas ran along the valley below, among 
woods and groves, and closely nestled in the midst of wide 
corn-fields and green meadows, where cattle were grazing, 
rose the low mud walls of the Pueblo. 



CHAPTER XXI 
THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 

We approached the gate of the Pueblo. It was a wretched 
species of fort, of most primitive construction, being nothing 
more than a large square enclosure, surrounded by a wall of 
mud, miserably cracked and dilapidated. The slender pickets 

5 that surmounted it were half broken down, and the gate 
dangled on its wooden hinges so loosely that to open or shut 
it seemed likely to fling it down altogether. Two or three 
squalid Mexicans, with their broad hats, and their vile faces 
overgrown with hair, were lounging about the bank of the 

10 river in front of it. They disappeared as they saw us ap- 
proach ; and as we rode up to the gate, a light active little 
figure came out to meet us. It was our old friend Eichard. 
He had come from Fort Laramie on a trading expedition to 
Taos ; but finding when he reached the Pueblo that the war 

15 would prevent his going farther, he was quietly waiting till 
the conquest of the country should allow him to proceed. 
He seemed to feel bound to do the honors of the place. 
Shaking us warmly by the hand, he led the way into the 
area. 

20 Here we saw his large Santa Fe wagons standing together. 
A few squaws and Spanish women, and a few Mexicans, as 
mean and miserable as the place itself, were lazily saunter- 
ing about. Eichard conducted us to the state apartment of 
the Pueblo, a small mud room, very neatly finished, consid- 

25 ering the material, and garnished with a crucifix, a looking- 
glass, a picture of the Virgin, and a rusty horse-pistol. There 
were no chairs, but instead of them a number of chests and 
boxes ranged about the room. There was another room 

276 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 277 

beyond, less sumptuously decorated, and here three or four 
Spanish girls, one of them very pretty, were baking cakes 
at a mud fire-place in the corner. They brought out a 
poncho, which they spread upon the floor by way of table- 
cloth. A supper, which seemed to us luxurious, was soon 5 
laid out upon it, and folded buffalo-robes were placed around 
it to receive the guests. Two or three Americans besides 
ourselves were present. We sat down in Turkish fashion, 
and began to ask the news. Richard told us that, about 
three weeks before, General Kearney's army had left Bent's 10 
Fort to march against Santa Fe ; that when last heard from 
they were approaching the defiles that led to the city. One 
of the Americans produced a dingy newspaper, containing 
an account of the battles of Palo Alto and E-esaca de la 
Palma. While we were discussing these matters, the door- 15 
way was darkened by a tall, shambling fellow, who stood 
with his hands in his pockets taking a leisurely survey of 
the premises before he entered. He wore brown homespun 
trousers, much too short for his legs, and a pistol and bowie- 
knife stuck in his belt. His head and one eye were envel- 20 
oped in a huge bandage of linen. Having completed his ob- 
servations, he came slouching in, and sat down on a chest. 
Eight or ten more of the same stamp followed, and very 
coolly arranging themselves about the room, began to stare 
at the company. We were forcibly reminded of the Oregon 25 
emigrants, though these unwelcome visitors had a certain 
glitter of the eye, and a compression of the lips, which dis- 
tinguished them from our old acquaintances of the prairie. 
They began to catechise us at once, inquiring whence we 
had come, what we meant to do next, and what were our 30 
prospects in life. 

The man with the bandaged head had met with an un- 
toward accident a few days before. He was going down to 
the river to bring water, and was pushing through the 
young willows which covered the low ground when he came 



278 THE OREGON TRAIL 

unawares upon a grizzly bear, which, having just eaten a 
buffalo bull, had lain down to sleep off the meal. The bear 
rose on his hind legs, and gave the intruder such a blow 
with his paw that he laid his forehead entirely bare, clawed 
5 off the front of his scalp, and narrowly missed one of his 
eyes. Fortunately he was not in a very pugnacious mood, 
being surfeited with his late meal. The man's companions, 
who were close behind, raised a shout, and the bear walked 
away, crushing down the willows in his leisurely retreat. 

10 These men belonged to a party of Mormons, who, out of 
a well-grounded fear of the other emigrants, had postponed 
leaving the settlements until all the rest were gone. On ac- 
count of this delay, they did not reach Fort Laramie until 
it was too late to continue their journey to California. 

15 Hearing that there was good land at the head of the Arkan- 
sas, they crossed over under the guidance of Richard, and 
were now preparing to spend the winter at a spot about 
half a mile from the Pueblo. 

When we took leave of Richard it was near sunset. Pass- 

20 ing out of the gate, we could look down the little valley of 
the Arkansas ; a beautiful scene, and doubly so to our eyes, 
so long accustomed to deserts and mountains. Tall woods 
lined the river, with green meadows on either hand ; and 
high bluffs, quietly basking in the sunlight, flanked the 

25 narrow valley. A Mexican on horseback was driving a herd 
of cattle towards the gate, and our little white tent, which 
the men had pitched under a tree in the meadow, made a 
pleasing feature in the scene. When we reached it, we 
found that Richard had sent a Mexican to bring us an 

30 abundant supply of green corn and vegetables, and invite 
us to help ourselves to whatever we wanted from the fields 
around the Pueblo. 

The inhabitants were in daily apprehension of an inroad 
from more formidable consumers than we. Every year, at 
the time when the corn begins to ripen, the Arapahoes, to 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 279 

the number of several thousands, come and encamp around 
the Pueblo. The handful of white men, who are entirely 
at the mercy of this swarm of barbarians, choose to make a 
merit of necessity ; they come forward very cordially, shake 
them by the hand, and tell them that the harvest is entirely 5 
at their disposal. The Arapahoes take them at their word, 
help themselves most liberally, and usually turn their horses 
into the corn-fields afterwards. They have the foresight, 
however, to leave enough of the crops untouched to serve 
as an inducement for planting the fields again for their lo 
benefit in the next spring. 

The human race in this part of the world is separated 
into three divisions, arranged in the order of their merits : 
white men, Indians, and Mexicans ; to the latter of whom 
the honorable title of " whites " is by no means conceded. 15 

In spite of the warm sunset of that evening the next 
morning was a dreary and cheerless one. It rained steadily, 
clouds resting upon the very tree-tops. We crossed the 
river to visit the Mormon settlement. As we passed through 
the water, several trappers on horseback entered it from the 20 
other side. Their buckskin frocks were soaked through by 
the rain, and clung fast to their limbs with a most clammy 
and uncomfortable look. The water was trickling down their 
faces, and dropping from the ends of their rifles and from 
the traps which each carried at the pommel of his saddle. 25 
Horses and all, they had a disconsolate and woe-begone 
appearance, which we could not help laughing at, forgetting 
how often we ourselves had been in a similar plight. 

After half an hour's riding, we saw the white wagons of 
the Mormons drawn up among the trees. Axes were sound- 30 
ing, trees falling, and log-huts rising along the edge of the 
woods and upon the adjoining meadow. As we came up, the 
Mormons left their work, seated themselves on the timber 
around us, and began earnestly to discuss points of theol- 
ogy, complain of the ill-usage they had received from the 



280 THE OREGON TRAIL 

'^ Gentiles," and sound a lamentation over the loss of their 
great tem^^le of Nauvoo. After remaining with them an 
hour we rode back to our camp, happy that the settle- 
ments had been delivered from the presence of such blind 
5 and desperate fanatics. 

On the following morning we left the Pueblo for Bent's 
Fort. The conduct of Raymond had lately been less satis- 
factory than before, and we had discharged him as soon as 
we arrived at the former place, so that the party, ourselves 

10 included, was now reduced to four. There was some uncer- 
tainty as to our future course. The trail between Bent's 
Eort and the settlements, a distance computed at six hun- 
dred miles, was at this time in a dangerous state ; for since 
the passage of General Kearney's army, great numbers of 

15 hostile Indians, chiefly Pawnees and Camanches, had gath- 
ered about some parts of it. They became soon after so 
numerous and audacious that scarcely a single party, how- 
ever large, passed between the fort and the frontier without 
some token of their hostility. The newspapers of the time 

20 sufficiently display this state of things. Many men were 
killed, and great numbers of horses and mules carried off. 
Not long since I met with a young man, who, during the 
autumn, came from Santa Fe to Bent's Fort, where he 
found a party of seventy men, who thought themselves too 

25 weak to go down to the settlements alone, and were waiting 
there for a reinforcement. Though this excessive timidity 
proves the ignorance of the men, it may also evince the 
state of alarm which prevailed in the country. When we 
were there in the month of August, the danger had not be- 

30 come so great. There was nothing very attractive in the 
neighborhood. We supposed, moreover, that we might wait 
there half the winter without finding any party to go down 
with us ; for Sublette and the others whom we had relied 
upon had, as Richard told us, already left Bent's Fort. 
Thus far on our journey Fortune had kindly befriended us. 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT 281 

We resolved therefore to take advantage of her gracious 
mood, and trusting for a continuance of her favors, to set 
out with Henry and Deslauriers, and run the gantlet of the 
Indians in the best way we could. 

Bent's Fort stands on the river, about seventy-five miles 5 
below the Pueblo. At noon of the third day we arrived 
within three or four miles of it, pitched our tent under a 
tree, hung our looking-glasses against its trunk, and having 
made our primitive toilet, rode towards the fort. We soon 
came in sight of it, for it is visible from a considerable dis- lo 
tance, standing with its high clay walls in the midst of the 
scorching plains. It seemed as if a swarm of locusts had in- 
vaded the country. The grass for miles- around was cropped 
close by the horses of General Kearney's soldiery. When 
we came to the fort, we found that not only had the horses 15 
eaten up the grass, but their owners had made way with 
the stores of the little trading post ; so that we had great 
difficulty in procuring the few articles which we required 
for our homeward journey. The army was gone, the life 
and bustle passed away, and the fort was a scene of dull and 20 
lazy tranquillity. A few invalid officers and soldiers saun- 
tered about the area, which was oppressively hot ; for the 
glaring sun was reflected down upon it from the high white 
walls around. The proprietors were absent, and we were 
received by Mr. Holt, who had been left in charge of the 25 
fort. He invited us to dinner, where, to our admiration, we 
found a table laid with a white cloth, with castors in the 
middle, and chairs placed around it. This unwonted repast 
concluded, we rode back to our camp. 

Here, as we lay smoking round the fire after supper, we 30 
saw through the dusk three men approaching from the 
direction of the fort. They rode up and seated themselves 
near us on the ground. The foremost was a tall, well- 
formed man, with a face and manner such as inspire confi- 
dence at once. He wore a broad hat of felt, slouching and 



282 THE OREGON TRAIL 

tattered, and the rest of his attire consisted of a frock and 
leggins of buckskin, rubbed with the yellow clay found 
among the mountains. At the heel of one of his mocca- 
sons was buckled a huge iron spur, with a rowel five or six 

5 inches in diameter. His horse, which stood quietly looking 
over his head, had a rude Mexican saddle, covered with a 
shaggy bearskin, and furnished with a pair of wooden stir- 
rups of preposterous size. The next man was a sprightly, 
active little fellow, about five feet and a quarter high, but 

10 very strong and compact. His face was swarthy as a Mexi- 
can's, and covered with a close, curly, black beard. An old, 
greasy, calico handkerchief was tied round his head, and 
his close buckskin dress was blackened and polished by 
grease and hard service. The last who came up was a large, 

15 strong man, dressed in the coarse homespun of the frontiers, 
who dragged his long limbs over the ground as if he were 
too lazy for the effort. He had a sleepy gray eye, a retreat- 
ing chin, an open mouth, and a protruding upper lip, which 
gave him an air of exquisite indolence and helplessness. 

20 He was armed with an old United States yager, which 
redoubtable weapon, though he could never hit his mark 
with it, he was accustomed to cherish as the very sover- 
eign of firearms. 

The first two men belonged to a party who had just come 

25 from California, with a large band of horses, which they 
had sold at Bent's Fort. Munroe, the taller of the two, was 
from Iowa. He was an excellent fellow, open, warm-hearted, 
and intelligent. Jim Gurney, the short man, was a Boston 
sailor, who had come in a trading vessel to California, and 

30 taken the fancy to return across the continent. The journey 
had already made him an expert " mountain-man," and he 
presented the extraordinary phenomenon of a sailor who 
understood how to manage a horse. The third of our visi- 
tors, named Ellis, was a Missourian, who had come out 
with a party of Oregon emigrants, but having got as far as 



THE PUEBLO AND BEXT'S FORT 283 

Bridger's Fort, he had fallen home-sick, or, as Jim averred, 
love-sick. He thought proper therefore to join the California 
men, and return homeward in their company. 

They now requested that they might unite with our 
party, and make the journey to the settlements in company 5 
with us. We readily assented, for we liked the appearance 
of the first two men, and were very glad to gain so efficient 
a reinforcement. We told them to meet us on the next 
evening at a spot on the river-side, about six miles below 
the fort. Having smoked a pipe together, our new allies 10 
left us, and we lay down to sleep, 



CHAPTER XXII 
TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 

The next morning, having directed Deslauriers to repair 
with his cart to the place of meeting, we came again to tlie 
fort to make some arrangements for the journey. After 
completing these we sat down under a sort of porch, to 
5 smoke with some Shienne Indians whom we found there. 
In a few minutes we saw an extraordinary little figure ap- 
proach us in a military dress. He had a small, round coun- 
tenance, garnished about the eyes with the kind of wrinkles 
commonly known as crow's feet, and surmounted by an 

10 abundant crop of red curls, with a little cap resting on the 
top of them. Altogether, he had the look of a man more 
conversant with mint-juleps and oyster suppers than with 
the hardships of prairie-service. He came up to us and en- 
treated that we would take him home to the settlements, 

15 saying that unless he went with us he should have to stay 
all winter at the fort. We liked our petitioner's appearance 
so little that we excused ourselves from complying with his 
request. At this he begged us so hard to take pity on him, 
looked so disconsolate, and told so lamentable a story, that 

20 at last we consented, though not without many misgivings. 

The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit's real name 

proved utterly unmanageable on the lips of our French 

attendants ; and Henry Chatillon, after various abortive 

attempts to pronounce it, one day coolly christened him 

25 Tete Eouge, in honor of his red curls. He had at different 
times been clerk of a Mississippi steamboat, and agent in 
a trading establishment at Nauvoo, besides filling various 
other capacities, in all of which he had seen much more of 

284 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER 285 

" life " than was good for him. In the spring, thinking that 
a summer's campaign would be an agreeable recreation, he 
had joined a company of St. Louis volunteers. 

" There were three of us," said Tete Rouge, '' me and 
Bill Stephens and John Hopkins. We thought we would 5 
just go out with the army, and when we had conquered the 
country, we would get discharged and take our pay, you 
know, and go down to Mexico. They say there 's plenty of 
fun going on there. Then we could go back to New Orleans 
by way of Vera Cruz." lo 

But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter volunteer, had reck- 
oned without his host. Fighting Mexicans was a less amus- 
ing occupation than he had supposed, and his pleasure trip 
was disagreeably interrupted by brain fever, which attacked 
him when about halfway to Bent's Fort. He jolted along 15 
through the rest of the journey in a baggage-wagon. When 
they came to the fort he was taken out and left there, with 
the rest of the sick. Bent's Fort does not supply the best 
accommodations for an invalid. Tete Rouge's sick-chamber 
was a little mud room, where he and a companion, attacked 20 
by the same disease, were laid together, with nothing but a 
buffalo-robe between them and the ground. The assistant- 
surgeon's deputy visited them once a day and brought them 
each a huge dose of calomel, the only medicine, according 
to his surviving victim, with which he was acquainted. 25 

Tete Rouge woke one morning, and turning to his compan- 
ion, saw his eyes fixed upon the beams above with the glassy 
stare of a dead man. At this the unfortunate volunteer lost 
his senses outright. In spite of the doctor, however, he 
eventually recovered ; though between the brain fever and 30 
the calomel, his mind, originally none of the strongest, was 
so much shaken that it had not quite recovered its balance 
when we came to the fort. In spite of the poor fellow's 
tragic story, there was something so ludicrous in his appear- 
ance, and the whimsical contrast between his military dress 



286 THE OREGON TRAIL 

and his most unmilitary demeanor, that we could not help 
smiling at them. We asked him if he had a gun. He said 
they had taken it from him during his illness, and he had 
not seen it since ; but " perhaps," he observed, looking at 

5 me with a beseeching air, '" you will lend me one of your big 
pistols if we should meet with any Indians." I next inquired 
if he had a horse ; he declared he had a magnificent one, 
and at Shaw's request, a Mexican led him in for inspection. 
He exhibited the outline of a good horse, but his eyes were 

10 sunk in the sockets, and every one of his ribs could be 
counted. There were certain marks too about his shoulders, 
which could be accounted for by the circumstance that, dur- 
ing Tete Rouge's illness, his companions had seized upon 
the insulted charger, and harnessed him to a cannon along 

15 with the draft horses. To Tete Rouge's astonishment we 
recommended him by all means to exchange the horse, if he 
could, for a mule. Fortunately the people at the fort were 
so anxious to get rid of him that they were willing to make 
some sacrifice to effect the object, and he succeeded in 

20 getting a tolerable mule in exchange for the broken-down 
steed. 

A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in the mule by 
a cord, which he placed in the hands of Tete Rouge, who, 
being somewhat afraid of his new acquisition, tried various 

25 flatteries and blandishments to induce her to come forward. 
The mule, knowing that she was expected to advance, 
stopped short in consequence, and stood fast as a rock, look- 
ing straight forward with immovable composure. Being 
stimulated . by a blow from behind, she consented to move, 

30 and walked nearly to the other side of the fort be-fore she 
stopped again. Hearing the bystanders laugh, Tete Rouge 
plucked up spirit and tugged hard at the rope. The mule 
jerked backward, spun herself round, and made a dash 
for the gate. Tete Rouge, who clung manfully to the rope, 
went whisking through the air for a few rods, when he let 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUXTEER 287 

go and stood with his mouth open, staring after the mule, 
which galloped away over the prairie. She was soon caught 
and brought back by a Mexican, who mounted a horse and 
went in pursuit of her with his lasso. 

Having thus displayed his capacities for prairie travel- 5 
ling, Tete Rouge proceeded to supply himself with provisions 
for the journey, and with this view applied to a quarter- 
master's assistant who was in the fort. This official had a 
face as sour as vinegar, being in a state of chronic indigna- 
tion because he had been left behind the army. He was as 10 
anxious as the rest to get rid of Tete Rouge. So, producing 
a rusty key, he opened a low door which led to a half 
subterranean apartment, into which the two disappeared 
together. After some time they came out again, Tete Rouge 
greatly embarrassed by a multiplicity of paper parcels con- 15 
taining the different articles of his forty days' rations. 
They were consigned to the care of Deslauriers, who about 
that time passed by with the cart on his way to the ap- 
pointed place of meeting with Munroe and his companions. 

We next urged Tete Rouge to provide himself, if he could, 20 
with a gun. He accordingly made earnest appeals to the 
charity of various persons in the fort, but totally without 
success, — a circumstance which did not greatly disturb us, 
since in the event of a skirmish, he would be more apt to do 
mischief to himself or his friends than to the enemy. When 25 
all these arrangements were completed, we saddled our 
horses, and were preparing to leave the fort, when looking 
round we discovered that our new associate w?.s in fresh 
trouble. A man was holding the mule for him in the middle 
of the fort, while he tried to put the saddle on her back, 30 
but she kept stepping sideways and moving round and round 
in a circle until he was almost in despair. It required some 
assistance before all his difficulties could be overcome. At 
length he clambered into the black war-saddle on which he 
was to have carried terror into the ranks of the Mexicans. 



288 THE OREGON TRAIL 

" Get up," said Tete Rouge ; " come now, go along, will 
you ^ " . 

The mule walked deliberately forward out of the gate. 
Her recent conduct had inspired him with so much awe that 

5 he never dared to touch her with his whip. We trotted for- 
ward towards the place- of meeting; but before we had 
gone far/ we saw that Tete Rouge's mule, who perfectly 
understood her rider, had stopped and was quietly grazing, 
in spite of his protestations, at some distance behind. So 

10 getting behind him, we drove him and the contumacious 
mule before us, until we could see through the twilight the 
gleaming of a distant fire. Munroe, Jim, and Ellis were 
lying around it ; their saddles, packs, and weapons were 
scattered about, and their horses picketed near them. Des- 

15 lauriers was there too with our little cart. Another fire was 
soon blazing. We invited our new allies to take a cup of 
coffee with us. When both the others had gone over to 
their side of the camp, Jim Gurney still stood by the blaze, 
puffing hard at his little black pipe, as short and weather- 

20 beaten as himself. 

" Well," he said, " here are eight of us ; we '11 call it six 
— for them two boobies, Ellis over yonder, and that new 
man of yours, won't count for anything. We '11 get through 
well enough, never fear for that, unless the Comanches 

25 happen to get foul of us." 



CHAPTER XXIII 
INDIAN ALARMS 

We began our journey for the settlements on the twenty- 
seventh of August, and certainly a more ragamuffin caval- 
cade never was seen on the banks of the Upper Arkansas. 
Of the large and fine horses with which we had left the 
frontier in the spring, not one remained : we had supplied 5 
their place with the rough breed of the prairie, as hardy as 
mules and almost as ugly ; we had also with us a number 
of the latter detestable animals. In spite of their strength 
and hardihood, several of the band were already worn down 
by hard service and hard fare, and as none of them were 10 
shod, they were fast becoming footsore. Every horse and 
mule had a cord of twisted bull-hide coiled about his neck, 
which by no means added to the beauty of his appearance. 
Our saddles and all our equipments were worn and battered, 
and our weapons had become dull and rusty. The dress of 15 
the riders corresponded with the dilapidated furniture of 
our horses, and of the whole party none made a more dis- 
reputable appearance than my friend and I. Shaw had for an 
upper garment an old red flannel shirt, flying open in front, 
and belted around him like a frock ; while I, in absence of 20 
other clothing, was attired in a time-worn suit of buckskin. 

Thus, happy and careless as so many beggars, we crept 
slowly from day to day along the monotonous banks of the 
Arkansas. T^te Rouge gave constant trouble, for he could 
never catch his mule, saddle her, or indeed do anything else 25 
without assistance. Every day he had some new ailment, 
real or imaginary, to complain of. At one moment he would 
be woe-begone and disconsolate, and at the next he would 

289 



290 THE OREGON TRAIL 1 

be visited with a violent flow of spirits, to which he could 
only give vent by incessant laughing, whistling, and tell- 1 
ing stories. When other resources failed, we used to amuse 
ourselves by tormenting him ; a fair compensation for the 

5 trouble he cost us. Tete Rouge rather enjoyed being laughed 
at, for he was an odd compound of weakness, eccentricity, 
and good-nature. He made a figure worthy of a painter as 
he paced along before us, perched on the back of his mule, 
and enveloped in a huge buffalo-robe coat, which some char- 

10 itable person had given him at the fort. This extraordinary 
garment, which would have contained two men of his size, . 
he chose, for some reason best known to himself, to wear 
inside out, and he never took it off, even in the hottest 
weather. It was fluttering all over with seams and tatters, 

15 and the hide was so old and rotten that it broke out every 
day in a new place. Just at the top of it a large pile of red 
curls was visible, with his little cap set jauntily upon one 
side, to give him a military air. His seat in the saddle was 
no less remarkable than his person and equipment. He 

20 pressed one leg close against his mule's side, and thrust the 
other out at an angle of forty-five degrees. His trousers 
were decorated with a military red stripe, of which he was 
extremely vain ; but being much too short, the whole length 
of his boots was usually visible below them. His blanket, 

25 loosely rolled up into a large bundle, dangled at the back of 
his saddle, where he carried it tied with a string. Four or 
five times a day it would fall to the ground. Every few 
minutes he would drop his pipe, his knife, his flint and 
steel, or a piece of tobacco, and scramble down to pick them 

30 up. In doing this he would contrive to get in everybody's 
way ; and as most of the party were by no means remark- 
able for a fastidious choice of language, a storm of anath- 
emas would be showered upon him, half in earnest and half 
in jest, until Tete Rouge would declare that there was no 
comfort in life, and that he never saw such fellows before. 



INDIAN ALARMS 291 

Only a day or two after leaving Bent's Fort, Henry 
Chatillon rode forward to hunt, and took Ellis along with 
him. After they had been some time absent we saw them 
coming down the hill, driving three dragoon-horses, which 
had escaped from their owners on the march, or perhaps 5 
had given out and been abandoned. One of them was in 
tolerable, condition, but the others were much emaciated 
and severely bitten by the wolves. Keduced as they were, 
we carried two of them to the settlements, and Henry 
exchanged the third with the Arapahoes for an excellent lo 
mule. 

On the day after, when we had stopped to rest at noon, 
a long train of Santa Fe wagons came up and trailed slowly 
past us in their picturesque procession. They belonged to 
a trader named Magoffin, whose brother, with a number of 15 
other men, came and sat down with us on the grass. The 
news they brought was not of the most pleasing complexion. 
According to their accounts, the trail below was in a very 
dangerous state. They had repeatedly detected Indians 
prowling at night around their camps ; and the large party 20 
which had left Bent's Fort a few weeks before us had been 
attacked, and a man named Swan, from Massachusetts, had 
been killed. His companions had buried the body ; but 
when Magoffin found his grave, which was near a place 
called " The Caches," the Indians had dug up and scalped 25 
him, and the wolves had shockingly mangled his remains. 
As an offset to this intelligence, they gave us the welcome 
information that the buffalo were numerous at a few days' 
journey below. 

On the next afternoon, as we moved along the bank of 30 
the river, we saw the white tops of wagons on the horizon. 
It was some hours before we met them, when they proved 
to be a train of clumsy ox-wagons, quite different from the 
rakish vehicles of the Santa Fe traders, and loaded with 
government stores for the troops. They all stopped, and 



292 THE OREGON TRAIL 

the drivers gathered around us in a crowd. Many of them 
were mere boys, fresh from the plough. In respect to the 
state of the trail, they confirmed all that the Santa Fe men had 
told us. In passing between the Pawnee Fork and the Caches, 

5 their sentinels had fired every night at real or imaginary 
Indians. They said also that Ewing, a young Kentuckian 
in the party that had gone down before us, had shot an 
Indian who was prowling at evening about the camp. Some 
of them advised us to turn back, and others to hasten for- 

10 ward as fast as we could ; but they all seemed in such a 
state of feverish anxiety and so little ca2:>able of cool judg- 
ment, that we attached slight weight to what they said. 
They next gave us a more definite piece of intelligence: a 
large village of Arapahoes was encamped on the river below. 

15 They represented them to be friendly ; but some distinction 
was to be made between a party of thirty men, travelling 
with oxen, which are of no value in an Indian's eyes, and a 
mere handful like ourselves, with a tempting band of mules 
and horses. 

20 Early in the afternoon of the next day, looking along the 
horizon before us, we saw that at one point it was faintly 
marked with pale indentations, like the teeth of a saw. The 
distant lodges of the Arapahoes, rising between us and the 
sky, caused this singular appearance. It wanted still two or 

25 three hours of sunset when we came opposite their camp. 
There were full two hundred lodges standing in the midst 
of a grassy meadow at some distance beyond the river, 
while for a mile around on both banks of the Arkansas were 
scattered some fifteen hundred horses and mules, grazing 

30 together in bands, or wandering singly about the prairie. 
The whole were visible at once, for the vast expanse was 
unbroken by hills, and there was not a tree or a bush to 
intercept the view. 

Here and there walked an Indian, engaged in watching 
the horses. No sooner did we see them than Tete Rouge 



INDIAN ALARMS 293 

begged Deslauriers to stop the cart and hand him his mili- 
tary jacket, which was stowed away there. In this he in- 
vested himself, having for once laid the old buffalo-coat 
aside, assumed a martial posture in the saddle, set his cap 
over his left eye with an air of defiance, and earnestly en- 5 
treated that somebody would lend him a gun or a pistol 
only for half an hour. Being called upon to explain these 
proceedings, T8te Eouge observed, that he knew from ex- 
perience what effect the presence of a military man in his 
uniform always has upon the mind of an Indian, and he 10 
thought the Arapahoes ought to know that there was a 
soldier in the party. 

Meeting Arapahoes here on the Arkansas was a very dif- 
ferent thing from meeting the same Indians among their 
native mountains. There was another circumstance in our 15 
favor. General Kearney had seen them a few weeks before, 
as he came up the river with his army, and, renewing his 
threats of the previous year, he told them that if they ever 
again touched the hair of a white man's head he would ex- 
terminate their nation. This placed them for the time in an 20 
admirable frame of mind, and the effect of his menaces had 
not yet disappeared. I wished to see the village and its in- 
habitants. We thought it also our best policy to visit them 
openly, as if unsuspicious of any hostile design ; and Shaw 
and I, with Henry Chatillon, prepared to cross the river. 25 
The rest of the party meanwhile moved forward as fast as 
they could, in order to get as far as possible from our 
suspicious neighbors before night came on. 

The Arkansas at this point, and for several hundred miles 
below, is nothing but a broad sand-bed, over which glide a 30 
few scanty threads of water, now and then expanding into 
wide shallows. At several places, during the autumn, the 
water sinks into the sand and disappears altogether. At 
this season, were it not for the numerous quicksands, the 
river might be forded almost anywhere without difficulty, 



294 THE OREGON TRAIL 

though its channel is often a quarter of a mile wide. Our 
horses jumped down the bank, and wading through the 
water, or galloping freely over the hard sand-beds, soon 
reached the other side. Here, as we were pushing through 

5 the tall grass, we saw several Indians not far off; one of 
them waited until we came up, and stood for some moments 
in perfect silence before us, looking at us askance with his 
little snake-like eyes. Henry explained by signs what we 
wanted, and the Indian, gathering his buffalo-robe about 

10 his shoulders, led the way towards the village without 
speaking a word. 

The language of the Arapahoes is so difficult, and its pro- I 
nunciation so harsh and guttural, that no white man, it is 
said, has ever been able to master it. Even Maxwell, the 

15 trader who has been most among them, .is compelled to re- i 
sort to the curious sign-language common to most of the ' 
prairie tribes. With this sign-language Henry Chatillon 
was perfectly acquainted. 

Approaching the village, we found the ground strewn 

20 with piles of waste buffalo-meat in incredible quantities. 
The lodges were pitched in a circle. They resembled those 
of the Dahcotah in everything but cleanliness. Passing be- 
tween two of them, we entered the great circular area of the 
camp, and instantly hundreds of Indians, men, women, and 

25 children, came flocking out of their habitations to look at 
us ; at the same time, the dogs all around the village set up 
a discordant baying. Our Indian guide walked towards the 
lodge of the chief. Here we dismounted ; and loosening the 
trail-ropes from our horses' necks, held them fast as we sat 

30 down before the entrance, with our rifles laid across our 
laps. The chief came out and shook us by the hand. He 
was a mean-looking fellow, very tall, thin-visaged, and 
sinewy, like the rest of the nation, and with scarcely a ves- 
tige of clothing. We had not been seated a moment before 
a multitude of Indians came crowding around us from every 



INDIAN ALARMS 295 

part of the village, and we were shut in by a dense wall 
of savage faces. Some of our visitors crouched around us 
on the ground ; others sat behind them ; others, stooping, 
looked over their heads ; while many more stood behind, 
peering over each other's shoulders, to get a view of us. I 5 
looked in vain among this throng of faces to discover one 
manly or generous expression ; all were wolfish, sinister, and 
malignant, and their complexions, as well as their features, 
unlike those of the Dahcotah, were exceedingly bad. The 
chief, who sat close to the entrance, called to a squaw within 10 
the lodge, who soon came out and placed a wooden bowl 
of meat before us. To our surprise, however, no pipe w^as 
offered. Having tasted of the meat as a matter of form, I 
began to open a bundle of presents, — tobacco, knives, ver- 
milion, and other articles which I had brought with me. At 15 
this there was a grin on every countenance in the rapacious 
crowd ; their eyes began to glitter, and long thin arms 
were eagerly stretched towards us on all sides to receive 
the gifts. 

The Arapahoes set great value upon their shields, which 20 
they transmit carefully from father to son. I wished to get 
one of them ; and displaying a large piece of scarlet cloth, 
together with some tobacco and a knife, I offered them to 
any one who would bring me what I wanted. After some 
delay a tolerable shield was produced. They were very 25 
anxious to know what we meant to do with it, and Henry 
told them that we were going to fight their enemies the 
Pawnees. This instantly produced a visible impression in 
our favor, w^hich was increased by the distribution of the 
presents. Among these was a large paper of awls, a gift ap- 30 
propriate to the women ; and as we were anxious to see the 
beauties of the Arapahoe village, Henry requested that they 
might be called to receive them. A warrior gave a shout, as 
if he were calling a pack of dogs together. The squaws, 
young and old, hags of eighty and girls of sixteen, came 



296 THE OREGON TRAIL 

running with screams and laughter out of the lodges ; and 
as the men gave way for them, they gathered round us and 
stretched out their arms, grinning with delight, their native 
ugliness considerably enhanced by the excitement of the 
5 moment. 

Mounting our horses, which during the whole interview 
we had held close to us, we prepared to leave the Arapahoes. 
The crowd fell back on each side, and stood looking on. 
When we were half across the camp an idea occurred to us. 

10 The Pawnees were probably in the neighborhood of the 
Caches ; we might tell the Arapahoes of this, and instigate 
them to send down a war-party and cut them off, while we 
ourselves could remain behind for a while and hunt the 
buffalo. At first thought, this plan of setting our enemies 

15 to destroy one another seemed to us a master-piece of policy ; 
but we immediately recollected that should we meet the 
Arapahoe warriors on the river below, they might prove 
quite as dangerous as the Pawnees themselves. So rejecting 
our plan as soon as it presented itself, we passed out of the 

20 village on the farther side. We urged our horses rapidly 
through the tall grass, which rose to their necks. Several 
Indians were walking through it at a distance, their heads 
just visible above its waving surface. It bore a kind of seed, 
as sweet and nutritious as oats ; and our hungry horses, in 

25 spite of whip and rein, could not resist the temptation of 
snatching at this unwonted luxury as we passed along. 
When about a mile from the village, I turned and looked 
back over the undulating ocean of grass. The sun was just 
set ; the western sky was all in a glow, and sharply defined 

30 against it, on the extreme verge of the plain, stood the 
clustered lodges of the Arapahoe camp. 

Reaching the bank of the river, we followed it for some 
distance farther, until we discerned through the twilight the 
white covering of our little cart on the opposite bank. When 
we reached it we found a considerable number of Indians 



INDIAN ALARMS 297 

there before us. Four or live of them were seated in a row 
upon tlie ground, looking like so many half-starved vultures. 
Tete Rouge, in his uniform, was holding a close colloquy 
with another by the side of the cart. Finding his signs and 
gesticulation of no avail, he tried to make the Indian under- 5 
stand him by repeating English words very loudly and dis- 
tinctly again and again. The Indian sat with his eye fixed 
steadily upon him, and in spite of the rigid immobility of 
his features, it was clear at a glance that he perfectly under- 
stood and despised his military companion. The exhibition lo 
was more amusing than politic, and Tete Rouge was directed 
to finish what he had to say as soon as possible. Thus re- 
buked, he crept under the cart and sat down there ; Henry 
Chatillon stooped to look at him in his retirement, and 
remarked in his quiet manner that an Indian would kill 15 
ten such men and laugh all the time. 

One by one our visitors arose and stalked away. As the 
darkness thickened we were saluted by dismal sounds. The 
wolves are incredibly numerous in this part of the country, 
and the offal around the Arapahoe camp had drawn such 20 
multitudes of them together that several hundreds were 
howling in concert in our immediate neighborhood. There 
was an island in the river, or rather an oasis in the midst 
of the sands, at about the distance of a gun-shot, and here 
they seemed to be gathered in the greatest numbers. A hor- 25 
rible discord of low mournful wailings, mingled with fero- 
cious howls, arose from it incessantly for several hours after 
sunset. We could distinctly see the wolves running about 
the prairie within a few rods of our fire, or bounding over 
the sand-beds of the river and splashing through the water. 30 
There was not the slightest danger from them, for they are 
the greatest cowards on the prairie. 

In respect to the human wolves in our neighborhood, we 
felt much less at our ease. That night each man spread his 
buffalo-robe upon the ground with his loaded rifle laid at 



298 THE OREGON TRAIL 

his side or clasped in his arms. Our horses were picketed 
so close around us that one of them repeatedly stepped over 
me as I lay. We were not in the habit of placing a guard, 
but every man was anxious and watchful : there was little 

5 sound sleeping in camp, and some one of the ^mrty was on 
his feet during the greater part of the night. For myself, 
I lay alternately waking and dozing until midnight. Tete 
Rouge was reposing close to the river-bank, and about this 
time, when half asleep and half awake, I was conscious that 

10 he shifted his position and crept on all-fours under the cart. 
Soon after I fell into a sound sleep, from which I was roused 
by a hand shaking me by the shoulder. Looking up, I saw I 
Tete Rouge stooping" over me with a pale face and dilated 
eyes. 

15 " What 's the matter ? " said I. 

Tete Rouge declared that as he lay on the river-bank, 
something caught his eye which excited his suspicions. So 
creeping under the cart for safety's sake, he sat there and 
watched, when he saw two Indians, wrapped in white robes, 

20 creej) up the bank, seize upon two horses and lead them off. 
He looked so frightened and told his story in such a discon- 
nected manner that I did not believe him, and was unwill- 
ing to alarm the party. Still, it might be true, and in that 
case the matter required instant attention. So, directing 

25 Tete Rouge to show me which way the Indians had gone, I 
took my rifle, in obedience to a thoughtless impulse, and left 
the camp. I followed the river-bank for two or three hun- 
dred yards, listening and looking anxiously on every side. 
In the dark prairie on the right I could discern nothing to 

30 excite alarm ; and in the dusky bed of the river, a wolf was 
bounding along in a manner which no Indian could imitate. 
I returned to the camp, and when within sight of it, saw 
that the whole party was aroused. Shaw called out to me 
that he had counted the horses, and that every one of them 
was in his place. Tete Rouge, being examined as to what 



INDIAN ALARMS 299 

he had seen, only repeated his former story with many as- 
severations, and insisted that two horses were certainly 
carried off. At this Jim Gurney declared that he was crazy ; 
Tete Rouge indignantly denied the charge, on which Jim 
appealed to us. As we declined to give our judgment on so 
delicate a matter, the dispute grew hot between TSte Rouge 
and his accuser, until he was directed to go to bed and not 
alarm the camp again if he saw the whole Arapahoe village 
coming. 



CHAPTER XXIV 
THE CHASE 

The country before us was now thronged with buffalo, 
and a sketch of the manner of hunting them will not be out 
of place. There are two methods commonly practised, " run- 
ning" and "approaching." The chase on horseback, which 
5 goes by the name of " running," is the more violent and 
dashing mode of the two, that is to say, when the buffalo 
are in one of their wild moods ; for otherwise it is tame 
enough. A practised and skilful hunter, well mounted, will 
sometimes kill five or six cows in a single chase, loading his 

10 gun again and again as his horse rushes through the tumult. 
In attacking a small band of buffalo, or in sejjarating a single 
animal from the herd and assailing it apart from the rest, 
there is less excitement and less danger. In fact, the animals 
are at times so stupid and lethargic that there is little sport 

15 in killing them. With a bold and well-trained horse the 
hunter may ride so close to the buffalo that as they gallop 
side by side he may touch him with his hand ; nor is there 
much danger in this as long as the buffalo's strength and 
breath continue unabated ; but when he becomes tired and 

20 can no longer run with ease, when his tongue lolls out and the 
foam flies from his jaws, then the hunter had better keep 
a more respectful distance ; the distressed brute may turn 
upon him at any instant ; and especially at the moment when 
he fires his gun. The horse then leaps aside, and the hunter 

25 has need of a tenacious seat in the saddle, for if he is thrown 
to the ground there is no hope for him. When he sees his 
attack defeated, the buffalo resumes his flight, but if the 
shot is well directed he soon stops ; for a few moments he 
stands still, then totters and falls heavily upon the prairie. 

300 



THE CHASE 301 

The chief difficulty in running buffalo, as it seems to me, is 
that of loading the gun or pistol at full gallop. Many hunters 
for convenience' sake carry three or four bullets in the mouth ; 
the powder is poured down the muzzle of the piece, the bullet 
dropped in after it, the stock struck hard upon the pommel of 5 
the saddle, and the work is done. The danger of this is ob- 
vious. Should the blow on the pommel fail to send the bullet 
home, or should the bullet, in the act of aiming, start from 
its place and roll towards the muzzle, the gun would prob- 
ably burst in discharging. Many a shattered hand and worse 10 
casualties besides have been the result of such an accident. 
To obviate it, some hunters make use of a ramrod, usually 
hung by a string from the neck, but this materially increases 
the difficulty of loading. The bows and arrows which the 
Indians use in running buffalo have many advantages over 15 
firearms, and even white men occasionally employ them. 

The danger of the chase arises not so much from the on- 
set of the wounded animal as from the nature of the ground 
which the hunter must ride over. The prairie does not al- 
ways present a smooth, level, and uniform surface ; very 20 
often it is broken with hills and hollows, intersected by ra- 
vines, and in the remoter parts studded by the stiff wild- 
sage bushes. The most formidable obstructions, however, 
are the burrows of wild animals, wolves, badgers, and par- 
ticularly prairie-dogs, with whose holes the ground for a 25 
very great extent is frequently honeycombed. In the blind- 
ness of the chase the hunter rushes over it unconscious of 
danger; his horse, at full career, thrusts his leg deep into 
one of the burrows ; the bone snaps, the rider is hurled for- 
ward to the ground and probably killed. Yet accidents in .30 
buffalo running happen less frequently than one would sup- 
pose; in the recklessness of the chase, the hunter enjoys 
all the impunity of a drunken man, and may ride in safety 
over gullies and declivities, where, should he attempt to pass 
in his sober senses, he would infallibly break his neck. 



302 THE OREGON TRAIL 

The method of " approaching," being practised on foot, ' 
has many advantages over that of " running "; in the former, 
one neither breaks down his horse nor endangers his own 
life ; he must be cool, collected, and watchful ; must under- 

5 stand the buffalo, observe the features of the country and 
the course of the wind, and be well skilled in using the rifle. 
The buffalo are strange animals ; sometimes they are so 
stupid and infatuated that a man may walk up to them in 
full sight on the open prairie, and even shoot several of 

10 their number before the rest will think it necessary to re- 
treat. At another moment they will be so shy and wary 
that in order to approach them the utmost skill, experience, 
and judgment are necessary. Kit Carson, I believe, stands 
pre-eminent in running buffalo ; in approaching, no man 

15 living can bear away the palm from Henry Chatillon. 
After Tete Rouge had alarmed the camp, no farther dis- 
turbance occurred during the night. The Arapahoes did not 
attempt mischief, or if they did the wakefulness of the party 
deterred them from effecting their purpose. The next day 

20 was one of activity and excitement, for about ten o'clock 
the man in advance shouted the gladdening cry of buffalo, 
buffalo! and in the hollow of the prairie just below us, a 
band of bulls were grazing. The temptation was irresistible, 
and Shaw and I rode down upon them. We were badly 

25 mounted on our travelling horses, but by hard lashing we 
overtook them, and Shaw, running alongside a bull, shot 
into him both balls of his double-barrelled gun. Looking 
round as I galloped by, I saw the bull m his mortal fury 
rushing again and again upon his antagonist, whose horse 

30 constantly leaped aside, and avoided the onset. My chase 
was more protracted, but at length I ran close to the bull 
and killed him with my pistols. Cutting off the tails of our 
victims by way of trophy, we rejoined the party in about a 
quarter of an hour after we had left it. Again and again that 
morning rang out the same welcome cry of buffalo, buffalo ! 



THE CHASE 303 

Every few moments, in the broad meadows along the river, 
we saw bands of bulls, who, raising their shaggy heads, 
would gaze in stupid amazement at the approaching horse- 
men, and then breaking into a clumsy gallop, file off in a 
long line across the trail in front, towards the rising prairie 5 
on the left. At noon, the plain before us was alive with 
thousands of buffalo, — bulls, cows, and calves, — all mov- 
ing rapidly as we drew near ; and far off beyond the river 
the swelling prairie was darkened with them to the very hori- 
zon. The party was in gayer spirits than ever. We stopped lo 
for a nooning near a grove of trees by the river. 

'' Tongues and hump-ribs to-morrow," said Shaw, looking 
with contempt at the venison steaks which Deslauriers 
placed before us. Our meal finished, we lay down to sleep. 
A shout from Henry Chatillon aroused us, and we saw him 15 
standing on the cartwheel, stretching his tall figure to its 
full height, while he looked towards the prairie beyond the 
river. Following the direction of his eyes, we could clearly 
distinguish a large dark object, like the black shadow of a 
cloud, passing rapidly over swell after swell of the distant 20 
plain ; behind it followed another of similar appearance, 
though smaller, moving more rapidly, and drawing closer 
and closer to the first. It was the hunters of the Arapahoe 
camp chasing a band of buffalo. Shaw and I caught and 
saddled our best horses, and went plunging through sand 25 
and water to the farther bank. We were too late. The hun- 
ters had already mingled with the herd, and the work of 
slaughter was nearly over. When we reached the ground 
we found it strewn far and near with numberless carcasses, 
while the remnants of the herd, scattered in all directions, 30 
were flying away in terror, and the Indians still rushing in 
pursuit. Many of the hunters, however, remained upon the 
spot, and among the rest was our yesterday's acquaintance, 
the chief of the village. He had alighted by the side of a 
cow, into which he had shot five or six arrows, and his 



304 THE OREGON TRAIL 

squaw, who had followed him on horseback to the hunt, was 
giving him a draught of water from a canteen, purchased 
or plundered from some volunteer soldier. Recrossing the 
river, we overtook the party, who were already on their way. 

5 We had gone scarcely a mile when we saw an imposing 
spectacle. From the river-bank on the right, away over the 
swelling prairie on the left, and in front as far as the eye 
could reach, was one vast host of buffalo. The outskirts of 
the herd were within a quarter of a mile. In many parts 

10 they were crowded so densely together that in the distance 
their rounded backs presented a surface of uniform black- 
ness ; but elsewhere they were more scattered, and from 
amid the multitude rose little columns of dust where some 
of them were rolling on the ground. Here and there a battle 

15 was going forward among the bulls. We could distinctly 
see them rushing against each other, and hear the clattering 
of their horns and their hoarse bellowing. Shaw was riding 
at some distance in advance, with Henry Chatillon ; I saw 
him stop and draw the leather covering from his gun. With 

20 such a sight before us, but one thing could be thought of. 
That morning I had used pistols in the chase. I had now a 
mind to try the virtue of a gun. Deslauriers had one, 
and I rode up to the side of the cart ; there he sat under 
the white covering, biting his pipe between his teeth and 

25 grinning with excitement. 

'' Lend me your gun, Deslauriers." 

'' Oui, Monsieur, oui," said Deslauriers, tugging with 
might and main to stop the mule, which seemed obstinately 
bent on going forward. Then everything but his moccasons 

30 disappeared as he crawled into the cart and pulled at the 
gun to extricate it. 

'' Is it loaded ? " I asked. 

" Oui, bien charge ; you '11 kill, mon bourgeois ; yes, you '11 
kill — c'est un bon fusil." 

I handed him my rifle and rode forward to Shaw. 



THE CHASE 305 

'' Are you ready ? " he asked. 

" Come on," said I. 

" Keep down that hollow," said Henry, " and then they 
won't see you till you get close to them." 

The hollow was a kind of wide ravine ; it ran obliquely 5 
towards the buffalo, and we rode at a canter along the bottom 
until it became too shallow ; then we bent close to our horses' 
necks, and, at last, finding that it could no longer conceal 
us, came out of it and rode directly towards the herd. It 
was within gunshot; before its outskirts, numerous grizzly lo 
old bulls were scattered, holding guard over their females. 
They glared at us in anger and astonishment, walked towards 
us a few yards, and then turning slowly round, retreated at 
a trot which afterwards broke into a clumsy gallop. In an 
instant the fnain body caught the alarm. The buffalo began 15 
to crowd away from the point towards which we were ap- 
proaching, and a gap was opened in the side of the herd. 
We entered it, still restraining our excited horses. Every 
instant the tumult was thickening. The buffalo, pressing to- 
gether in large bodies, crowded away from us on every hand. %o 
In front and on either side we could see dark columns and 
masses, half hidden by clouds of dust, rushing along in terror 
and confusion, and hear the tramp and clattering of ten thou- 
sand hoofs. That countless multitude of powerful brutes, ig- 
norant of their own strength, were flying in a panic from 25 
the approach of two feeble horsemen. To remain quiet 
longer was impossible. 

" Take that band on the left," said Shaw ; '' I'll take 
these in front." 

He sprang off, and I saw no more of him. A heavy Indian 30 
whip was fastened by a band to my wrist ; I swung it into 
the air and lashed my horse's flank with all the strength of 
my arm. Away she darted, stretching close to the ground. 
I could see nothing but a cloud of dust before me, but I 
knew that it concealed a band of many hundreds of buffalo. 



306 THE OREGON TRAIL 

In a moment I was in the midst of the cloud, half suffocated 
by the dust and stunned by the trampling of the flying 
herd ; but I was drunk with the chase and cared for nothing 
but the buffalo. Very soon a long dark mass became visible, 

5 looming through the dust; then I could distinguish each 
bulky carcass, the hoofs flying out beneath, the short tails 
held rigidly erect. In a moment I was so close that I could 
have touched them with my gun. Suddenly, to my amaze- 
ment,, the hoofs were jerked upwards, the tails flourished in 

10 the air, and amid a cloud of dust the buffalo seemed to sink 
into the earth before me. One vivid impression of that in- 
stant remains upon my mind. I remember looking down 
upon the backs of several buffalo dimly visible through the 
dust. We had run unawares upon a ravine. At that moment 

15 I was not the most accurate judge of depth and width, but 
when I passed it on my return, I found it about twelve feet 
deep and not quite twice as wide at the bottom. It was im- 
possible to stop ; I would have done so gladly if I could ; 
so, half sliding, half plunging, down went the little mare. 

20 She came down on her knees in the loose sand at the bottom ; 
I was pitched forward against her neck and nearly thrown 
over her head among the buffalo, who amid dust and confu- 
sion came tumbling in all around. The mare was on her feet 
in an instant and scrambling like a cat up the opposite side. 

25 I thought for a moment that she would have fallen back and 
crushed me, but with a violent effort she clambered out and 
gained the hard prairie above. Glancing back, I saw the 
huge head of a bull clinging as it were by the forefeet at 
the edge of the dusty gulf. At length I was fairly among 

30 the buffalo. They were less densely crowded than before, 
and I could see nothing but bulls, who always run at the 
rear of a herd to protect their females. As I passed among 
them they would lower their heads, and turning as they ran, 
try to gore my horse ; but as they were already at full speed 
there was no force in their onset, and as Pauline ran faster 



THE CHASE 307 

than they, they were always thrown behind her in the effort. 
I soon began to distinguish cows amid the throng. One just 
in front of me seemed to my liking, and I pushed close to 
her side. Dropping the reins, I fired, holding the muzzle of 
the gun within a foot of her shoulder. Quick as lightning 5 
she sprang at Pauline ; the little mare dodged the attack, 
and I lost sight of the wounded animal amid the tumult. 
Immediately after, I selected another, and urging forward 
Pauline, shot into her both pistols in succession. For a 
while I kept her in view, but in attempting to load my gun, lo 
lost sight of her also in the confusion. Believing her to be 
mortally wounded and unable to keep up with the herd, I 
checked my horse. The crowd rushed onwards. The dust 
and tumult passed away, and on the prairie, far behind the 
rest, I saw a solitary buffalo galloping heavily. In a moment 15 
I and my victim were running side by side. My firearms 
were all empty, and I had in my jjouch nothing but rifle 
bullets, too large for the pistols and too small for the gun. 
I loaded the gun, however, but as often as I levelled it to 
fire, the bullets would roll out of the muzzle and the gun re- 20 
turned only a report like a squib, as the powder harmlessly 
exploded. I rode in front of the buffalo and tried to turn 
her back ; but her eyes glared, her mane bristled, and, lower- 
ing her head, she rushed at me with the utmost fierce- 
ness and activity. Again and again I rode before her, 25 
and again and again she repeated her furious charge. But 
little Pauline was in her element. She dodged her enemy at 
every rush, until at length the buffalo stood still, exhausted 
with her own efforts, her tongue lolling from her jaws. 

Riding to a little distance, I dismounted, thinking to 30 
gather a handful of dry grass to serve the purpose of wad- 
ding, and load the gun at my leisure. No sooner were my 
feet on the ground than the buffalo came bounding in such 
a rage towards me that I jumped back again into the saddle 
with all possible despatch. After waiting a few minutes 



308 THE OREGON TRAIL 

more, I made an attempt to ride up and stab her with my 
knife ; but Pauline was near being gored in the attempt. 
At length, bethinking me of the fringes at the seams of my 
buckskin trousers, I jerked off a few of them, and, reloading 

5 the gun, forced them down the barrel to keep the bullet in 
its place ; then approaching, I shot the wounded buffalo 
through the heart. Sinking to her knees, she rolled over 
lifeless on the prairie. To my astonishment, I found that, 
instead of a cow, I had been slaughtering a stout yearling 

10 bull. No longer wondering at his fierceness, I opened his 
throat, and cutting out his tongue, tied it at the back of my 
saddle. My mistake was one which a more experienced eye 
than mine might easily make in the dust and confusion of 
such a chase. 

15 Then for the first time I had leisure to look at the scene 
around me. The prairie in front was darkened with the re- 
treating multitude, and on either hand the buffalo came fil- 
ing up in endless columns from the low plains upon the 
river. The Arkansas was three or four miles distant. I 

20 turned and moved slowly towards it. A long time passed 
before, far in the distance, I distinguished the white cover- 
ing of the cart and the little black specks of horsemen before 
and behind it. Drawing near, I recognized Shaw's elegant 
tunic, the red flannel shirt, conspicuous far off. I overtook 

25 the party, and asked him what success he had had. He had 
assailed a fat cow, shot her with two bullets, and mortally 
wounded her. But neither of us was prepared for the chase 
that afternoon, and Shaw, like myself, had no spare bullets 
in his pouch ; so he abandoned the disabled animal to Henry 

30 Chatillon, who followed, despatched her with his rifle, and 
loaded his horse with the meat. 

We encamped close to the river. The night was dark, 
and as we lay down we could hear, mingled with the 
howlings of wolves, the hoarse bellowing of the buffalo, 
like the ocean beating upon a distant coast. 



CHAPTER XXV 
THE BUFFALO CAMP 

No one in the camp Avas more active than Jim Gurney, 
and no one half so lazy as Ellis. Between these two there 
was a great antipathy. Ellis never stirred in the morning 
until he was compelled, but Jim was always on his feet be- 
fore daybreak ; and this morning as usual the sound of his 5 
voice awakened the party. 

'' Get up, you booby ! up with you now, you 're fit for 
nothing but eating and sleeping. Stop your grumbling 
and come out of that buffalo-robe, or I '11 pull it off for you." 

Jim's words were interspersed with numerous expletives, lo 
which gave them great additional effect. Ellis drawled out 
something in a nasal tone from among the folds of his 
buffalo-robe ; then slowly disengaged himself, rose into a 
sitting posture, stretched his long arms, yawned hideously, 
and, finally raising his tall person erect, stood staring about 15 
him to all the four quarters of the horizon. Deslauriers's 
fire was soon blazing, and the horses and mules, loosened 
from their pickets, were feeding on the neighboring meadow. 
When we sat down to breakfast the prairie was still in 
the dusky light of morning; and as the sun rose we were 20 
mounted and on our way again. 

'' A white buffalo ! " exclaimed Munroe. 

'' I '11 have that fellow," said Shaw, " if I run my horse 
to death after him." 

He threw the cover of his gun to Deslauriers and galloped 25 
out upon the prairie. 

'' Stop, Mr. Shaw, stop ! " called out Henry Chatillon, '^you'll 
run down your horse for nothing; it's only a white ox." 

300 



310 THE OREGON TKAIL 

But Shaw was already out of hearing. The ox, which had 
no doubt strayed away from some of the government wagon 
trains, was standing beneath some low hills which bounded 
the plain in the distance. Xot far from him a band of veri- 

5 table buffalo bulls were grazing ; and startled at Shaw's 
approach, they all broke into a run, and went scrambling up 
the hillsides to gain the high prairie above. One of them 
in his haste and terror involved himself in a fatal catas- 
trophe. Along the foot of the hills was a narrow strip of 

10 deep marshy soil, into which the bull plunged and hope- 
lessly entangled himself. We all rode to the spot. The huge 
carcass was half sunk in the mud, which flowed to his very 
chin, and his shaggy mane was outspread upon the surface. 
As we came near, the bull began to struggle with convulsive 

15 strength ; he writhed to and fro, and in the energy of his 
fright and desperation would lift himself for a moment half 
out of the slough, while the reluctant mire returned a suck- 
ing sound as he strained to drag his limbs from its tenacious 
depths. We stimulated his exertions by getting behind him 

20 and twisting his tail ; nothing would do. There was clearly 
no hope for him. After every effort his heaving sides were 
more deeply imbedded, and the mire almost overflowed his 
nostrils ; he lay still at length, and looking round at us with 
a furious eye, seemed to resign himself to his fate. Ellis 

25 slowly dismounted, and, levelling his boasted yager, shot 
the old bull through the heart; then lazily climbed back 
again to his seat, pluming himself no doubt on having ac- 
tually killed a buffalo. That day the invincible yager drew 
blood for the first and last time during the whole journey. 

30 The morning was a bright and gay one, and the air so 
clear that on the farthest horizon the outline of the pale 
blue prairie was sharply drawn against the sky. Shaw was 
in the mood for hunting ; he rode in advance of the party, 
and before long we saw a file of bulls galloping at full speed 
upon a green swell of the prairie at some distance in front. 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 811 

Shaw came scouring along behind them, arrayed in his red 
shirt, which looked very well in the distance ; he gained 
fast on the fugitives, and as the foremost bull was disappear- 
ing behind the summit of the swell, we saw him in the act 
of assailing the hindmost ; a smoke sprang from the muzzle 5 
of his gun and floated away before the wind like a little 
white cloud ; the bull turned upon him, and just then the 
rising ground concealed them both from view. 

We were moving forward until about noon, when we 
stopped by the side of the Arkansas. At that moment Shaw lo 
appeared riding slowly down the side of a distant hill ; his 
horse was tired and jaded, and when he threw his saddle 
upon the ground, I observed that the tails of two bulls were 
dangling behind it. No sooner were the horses turned loose 
to feed than Henry, asking Munroe to go with him, took 15 
his rifle and walked quietly away. Shaw, Tete Eouge, and I 
sat down by the side of the cart to discuss the dinner which 
Deslauriers placed before us, and we had scarcely finished 
when we saw Munroe walking towards us along the river- 
bank. Henry, he said, had killed four fat cows, and had 20 
sent him back for horses to bring in the meat. Shaw took a 
horse for himself and another for Henry, and he and Munroe 
left the camp together. After a short absence all three of 
them came back, their horses loaded with the choicest parts 
of the meat. We kept two of the cows for ourselves, and 25 
gave the others to Munroe and his companions. Deslauriers 
seated himself on the grass before the pile of meat, and 
worked industriously for some time to cut it into thin broad 
sheets for drying, an art in which he had all the skill of an 
Indian squaw. Long before night, cords of raw hide were 30 
stretched around the camp, and the meat was hung upon them 
to dry in the sunshine and pure air of the prairie. Our Cali- 
fornia companions were less successful at the work ; but they 
accomplished it after their own fashion, and their side of the 
camp was soon garnished in the same manner as our own. 



312 THE OREGON TRAIL 

We meant to remain at this place long enough to prepare 
provisions for our journey to the frontier, which, as we sup- 
posed, might occupy about a month. Had the distance been 
twice as great and the party ten times as large, the rifle of 
5 Henry Chatillon would have supplied meat enough for the 
whole within two days ; we were obliged to remain, how- 
ever, until it should be dry enough for transportation ; so 
we pitched our tent and made other arrangements for a per- 
manent camp. The California men, who had no such shelter, 

10 contented themselves with arranging their packs on the 
grass around their fire. In the mean time we had nothing to 
do but amuse ourselves. Our tent was within a rod of the 
river,- if the broad sand-beds, with a scanty stream of water 
coursing here and there along their surface, deserve to be 

15 dignified with the name of river. The vast flat plains on 
either side were almost on a level with the sandbeds, and 
they were bounded in the distance by low, monotonous hills, 
parallel to the course of the stream. All was one expanse 
of grass ; there was no wood in view, except some trees and 

20 stunted bushes upon two islands which rose from the wet 
sands of the river. Yet far from being dull and tame, the 
scene was often a wild and animated one ; for twice a day, 
at sunrise and at noon, the buffalo came issuing from the 
hills, slowly advancing in their grave processions to drink 

26 at the river. All our amusements were to be at their ex- 
pense. An old buffalo bull is a brute of unparalleled ugli- 
ness. At first sight of him every feeling of pity vanishes. 
The cows are much smaller and of a gentler appearance, as 
becomes their sex. While in this camp we forebore to at- 

30 tack them, leaving to Henry Chatillon, who could better 
judge their quality, the task of killing such as we wanted 
for use ; but against the bulls we waged an unrelenting war. 
Thousands of them might be slaughtered without causing 
any detriment to the species, for their numbers greatly ex- 
ceed those of the cows ; it is the hides of the latter alone 



II 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 313 

which are used for the purposes of commerce and for mak- 
ing the lodges of the Indians ; and the destruction among 
them is therefore greatly disproportionate. 

Our horses were tired, and we now usually hunted on 
foot. While we were lying on the grass after dinner, smok- 5 
ing, talking, or laughing at Tete Eouge, one of us would 
look up and observe, far out on the plains beyond the river, 
certain black objects slowly approaching. He would inhale 
a parting whiff from the pipe, then rising lazily, take his 
rifle, which leaned against the cart, throw over his shoulder lo 
the strap of his pouch and powder-horn, and with his moc- 
casons in his hand, walk across the sand towards the oppo- 
site side of the river. This was very easy ; for though the 
sands were about a quarter of a mile wide, the water was 
nowhere more than two feet deep. The farther bank was 15 
about four or five feet high, and quite perpendicular, being 
cut away by the water in spring. Tall grass grew along its 
edge. Putting it aside with his hand, and cautiously look- 
ing through it, the hunter can discern the huge shaggy back 
of the bull slowly swaying to and fro, as, with his clums}^, 20 
swinging gait, he advances towards the water. The buffalo 
have regular paths by which they come down to drink. See- 
ing at a glance along which of these his intended victim is 
moving, the hunter crouches under the bank within fifteen 
or twenty yards, it may be, of the point where the path 25 
enters the river. Here he sits down quietly on the sand. 
Listening intently, he hears the heavy, monotonous tread of 
the approaching bull. The moment after, he sees a motion 
among the long weeds and grass just at the spot where the 
path is channelled through the bank. An enormous black 30 
head is thrust out, the horns just visible amid the mass of 
tangled mane. Half sliding, half plunging, down comes the 
buffalo upon the river-bed below. He steps out in full sight 
upon the sands. Just before him a runnel of water is gliding, 
and he bends his head to drink. You may hear the water as 



314 THE OREGON TRAIL 

it gurgles down his capacious throat. He raises his head, 
and the drops trickle from his wet beard. He stands with 
an air of stupid abstraction, unconscious of the lurking 
danger. Noiselessly the hunter cocks his rifle. As he sits 

5 upon the sand, his knee is raised, and his elbow rests upon 
it, that he may level his heavy weapon with a steadier aim. 
The stock is at his shoulder ; his eye ranges along the barrel. 
Still he is in no haste to fire. The bull, with slow deliber- 
ation, begins his march over the sands to the other side. 

10 He advances his foreleg, and exposes to view a small spot, 
denuded of hair, just behind the point of his shoulder ; 
upon this the hunter brings the sight of his rifle to bear; 
lightly and delicately his finger presses the hair-trigger. 
The spiteful crack of the rifle responds to his touch, and 

15 instantly in the middle of the bare spot appears a small red 
dot. The buffalo shivers ; death has overtaken him, he can- 
not tell from whence ; still he does not fall, but walks 
heavily forward, as if nothing had happened. Yet before 
he has gone far out upon the sand, you see him stop ; he 

20 totters ; his knees bend under him, and his head sinks for- 
ward to the ground. Then his whole vast bulk sways to one 
side; he rolls over on the sand, and dies with a scarcely 
perceptible struggle. 

Waylaying the buffalo in this manner, and shooting them 

25 as they come to water, is the easiest method of hunting 
them. They may also be approached by crawling up ravines 
or behind hills, or even over the open prairie. This is often 
surprisingly easy ; but at other times it requires the utmost 
skill of the most experienced hunter. Henry Chatillon was 

30 a man of extraordinary strength and hardihood ; but I have 
seen him return to camp quite exhausted with his efforts, 
his limbs scratched and wounded, and his buckskin dress 
stuck full of the thorns of the prickly-pear, among which he 
had been crawling. Sometimes he would lie flat upon his face, 
and drag himself along in this position for many rods together. 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 315 

On the second day of our stay at this place, Henry went 
out for an afternoon hunt. Shaw and I remained in camp, 
until, observing some bulls approaching the water upon the 
other side of the river, we crossed over to attack them. 
They were so near, however, that before we could get under 5 
cover of the bank our appearance as we walked over the 
sands alarmed them. Turning round before coming within 
gun-shot, they began to move off to the right in a direction 
parallel to the river. I climbed up the bank and ran after 
them. They were walking swiftly, and before I could come 10 
within gun-shot distance they slowly wheeled about and 
faced me. Before they had turned far enough to see me I 
had fallen flat on my face. For a moment they stood and 
stared at the strange object upon the grass ; then turning 
away, again they walked on as before ; and I, rising imme- 15 
diately, ran once more in pursuit. Again they- wheeled 
about, and again I fell prostrate. Eepeating this three or 
four times, I came at length within a hundred yards of the 
fugitives, and as I saw them turning again, I sat down and 
levelled my rifle. The one in the centre was the largest I 20 
had ever seen. I shot him behind the shoulder. His two 
companions ran off. He attempted to follow, but soon came 
to a stand, and at length lay down as quietly as an ox chew- 
ing the cud. Cautiously approaching him, I saw by his dull 
and jelly-like eye that he was dead. 25 

When I began the chase, the prairie was almost tenant- 
less ; but a great multitude of buffalo had suddenly thronged 
upon it, and looking up I saw within fifty rods a heavy, 
dark column stretching to the right and left as far as I 
could see. I walked towards them. My approach did not 30 
alarm them in the least. The column itself consisted almost 
entirely of cows and calves, but a great many old bulls were 
ranging about the prairie on its flank, and as I drew near 
they faced towards me with such a grim and ferocious look 
that I thought it best to proceed no farther. Indeed, I was 



316 THE OREGON TRAIL 

already within close rifle-shot of the column, and I sat down 
on the ground to watch their movements. Sometimes the 
whole would stand still, their heads all one way ; then they 
would trot forward, as if by a common impulse, their hoofs 

5 and horns clattering together as they moved. I soon began 
to hear at a distance on the left the sharp reports of a rifle, 
again and again repeated ; and not long after, dull and 
heavy sounds succeeded, which I recognized as the familiar 
voice of Shaw's double-barrelled gun. When Henry's rifle 

10 was at work there was always meat to be brought in. I 
went back across the river for a horse, and, returning, 
reached the spot where the hunters were standing. The 
buffalo were visible on the distant prairie. The living had 
retreated from the ground, but ten or twelve carcasses were 

15 scattered in various directions. Henry, knife in hand, was 
stooping over a dead cow, cutting away the best and fattest 
of the meat. 

When Shaw left me he had walked down for some dis- 
tance under the river-bank to find another bull. At length 

20 he saw the plains covered with the host of buffalo, and soon 
after heard the crack of Henry's rifle. Ascending the bank, 
he crawled through the grass, which for a rod or two from 
the river was very high and rank. He had not crawled far 
before to his astonishment he saw Henry standing erect 

25 upon the prairie, almost surrounded by the buffalo. Henry 
was in his element. Quite unconscious that any one was 
looking at him, he stood at the full height of his tall figure, 
one hand resting upon his side, and the other arm leaning 
carelessly on the muzzle of his rifle. His eye was ranging 

30 over the singular assemblage around him. Now and then he 
wouJd select such a cow as suited him, level his rifle, and 
shoot her dead ; then quietly reloading, he would resume 
his former position. The buffalo seemed no more to regard 
his presence than if he were one of themselves ; the bulls 
were bellowing and butting at each other, or rolling about 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 317 

in the dust. A group of buffalo would gather about the car- 
cass of a dead cow, snuffing at her wounds ; and sometimes 
they would come behind those that had not yet fallen, and 
endeavor to push them from the spot. Now and then some 
old bull would face towards Henry with an air of stupid 5 
amazement, but none seemed inclined to attack or fly from 
him. For some time Shaw lay among the grass, looking in 
surprise at this extraordinary sight ; at length he crawled 
cautiously forward, and spoke in a low voice to Henry, who 
told him to rise and come on. Still the buffalo showed no lo 
sign of fear ; they remained gathered about their dead com- 
panions. Henry had already killed as many cows as we 
wanted for use, and Shaw, kneeling behind one of the car- 
casses, shot five bulls before the rest thought it necessary 
to disperse. 15 

The frequent stupidity and infatuation of the buffalo 
seems the more remarkable from the contrast it offers to 
their wildness and wariness at other times. Henry knew 
all their peculiarities ; he had studied them as a scholar 
studies his books, and derived quite as much pleasure from 20 
the occupation. The buffalo were a kind of companions to 
him, and, as he said, he never felt alone when they were 
about him. He took great pride in his skill in hunting. He 
was one of the most modest of men ; yet in the simplicity 
and frankness of his character, it was clear that he looked 25 
upon his pre-eminence in this respect as a thing too palpable 
and well established to be disputed. But whatever may have 
been his estimate of his own skill, it was rather below than 
above that which others placed upon it. The only time that 
I ever saw a shade of scorn darken his face was when two 30 
volunteer soldiers, who had just killed a buffalo for the first 
time, undertook to instruct him as to the best method of 
'' approaching." Henry always seemed to think that he had 
a sort of prescriptive right to the buffalo, and to look upon 
them as something belonging to himself. Nothing excited 



318 THE OREGON TRAIL 

his indignation so much as any wanton destruction commit- 
ted among the cows, and in his view shooting a calf was a 
cardinal sin. 

Henry Chatillon and Tete Rouge were of the same age ; 
5 that is, about thirty. Henry was twice as large, and about 
six times as strong as Tete Eouge. Henry's face was rough- 
ened by winds and storms ; Tete Rouge's was bloated by 
sherry-cobblers and brandy-toddy. Henry talked of Indians 
and buffalo; Tete Rouge of theatres and oyster-cellars. 

10 Henry had led a life of hardship and privation ; Tete 
Rouge never had a whim which he would not gratify at the 
first moment he was able. Henry moreover was the most 
disinterested man I ever saw ; while Tete Rouge^ though 
equally good-natured in his way, cared for nobody but him- 

15 self. Yet we would not have lost him on any account ; he 
served the purpose of a jester in a feudal castle ; our camp 
would have been lifeless without him. For the past week 
he had fattened in a most amazing manner ; and, indeed, 
this was not at all surprising, since his appetite was inordi- 

20 nate. He was eating from morning till night ; half the time 
he would be at work cooking some private repast for him- 
self, and he paid a visit to the coffee-pot eight or ten times 
a day. His rueful and disconsolate face became jovial and 
rubicund, his eyes stood out like a lobster's, and his spirits, 

25 which before were sunk to the depths of despondency, were 
now elated in proportion ; all day he was singing, whistling, 
laughing, and telling stories. Being mortally afraid of Jim 
Gurney, he kept close in the neighborhood of our tent. As 
he had seen an abundance of low fast life, and had a con- 

30 siderable fund of humor, his anecdotes were extremely 
amusing, especially since he never hesitated to place himself 
in a ludicrous point of view, provided he could raise a laugh 
by doing so. Tete Rouge, however, was sometimes rather 
troublesome ; he had an inveterate habit of pilfering provi- 
sions at all times of the day. He set ridicule at defiance, 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 319 

and would never have given over his tricks, even if they 
had drawn upon him the scorn of the whole party. Kow 
and then, indeed, something worse than laughter fell to his 
share ; on these occasions he w^ould exhibit much contrition, 
but half an hour after we would generally observe him 5 
stealing round to the box at the back of the cart, and slyly 
making off with the provisions which Deslauriers had laid 
by for supper. He was fond of smoking; but having no 
tobacco of his own, Ave used to provide him with as much 
as he wanted, a small piece at a time. At lirst we gave him 10 
half a pound together ; but this experiment proved an entire 
failure, for he invariably lost not only the tobacco, but the 
knife intrusted to him for cutting it, and a few minutes after 
he would come to us with many apologies and beg for more. 
. We had been two days at this camp, and some of the 15 
meat was nearly lit for transportation, when a storm came 
suddenly upon us. About sunset the whole sky . grew as 
black as ink, and the long grass at the edge of the river bent 
and rose mournfully with the first gusts of the approaching 
hurricane. Munroe and his two companions brought their 20 
guns and placed them under cover of our tent. Having no 
shelter for themselves, they built a fire of driftwood that 
might have defied a cataract, and, wrapped in their buffalo- 
robes, sat on the ground around it to bide the fury of the 
storm. Deslauriers ensconced himself under the cover of 25 
the cart. Shaw and I, together with Henry and Tete Rouge, 
crowded into the little tent ; but first of all the dried meat 
was piled together, and well protected by buffalo-robes 
pinned firmly to the ground. About nine o'clock the storm 
broke amid absolute darkness ; it blew a gale, and torrents 30 
of rain roared over the boundless expanse of open prairie. 
Our tent was filled w4th mist and spray beating through the 
canvas, and saturating everything within. We could only dis- 
tinguish each other at short intervals by the dazzling flashes 
of lightning, which displayed the whole waste around us 



320 THE OREGON TRAIL 

with its momentary glare. We had our fears for the tent ; 
but for an hour or two it stood fast, until at length the cap 
gave way before a furious blast ; the pole tore through the 
top, and in an instant we were half suffocated by the cold 

5 and dripping folds of the canvas, which fell down upon us. 
Seizing upon our guns, we placed them erect, in order to lift 
the saturated cloth above our heads. In this agreeable situa- 
tion, involved among wet blankets and buffalo-robes, we spent 
several hours of the night, during which the storm would 

10 not abate for a moment, but pelted down with merciless fury. 
Before long the water gathered beneath us in a pool two or 
three inches deep ; so that for a considerable part of the 
night we were partially immersed in a cold bath. In spite 
of all this, Tete Rouge's flow of spirits did not fail him ; he 

15 laughed, whistled, and sang in defiance of the storm, and 
that night paid off the long arrears of ridicule which he 
owed us. While we lay in silence, enduring the infliction 
with what philosophy we could muster, Tete Rouge, who 
was intoxicated with animal spirits, cracked jokes at our 

20 expense by the hour together. At about three o'clock in the 
morning, preferring "the tyranny of the open night" to 
such a wretched shelter, we crawled out from beneath the 
fallen canvas. The wind had abated, but the rain fell stead- 
ily. The fire of the California men still blazed amid the 

25 darkness, and we joined them as they sat around it. We 
made ready some hot coffee by way of refreshment; but 
when some of the party sought to replenish their cups, it 
was found that Tete Rouge, having disposed of his own 
share, had privately abstracted the coffee-pot and drunk 

30 the rest of the contents out of the spout. 

In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded sun rose 
upon the prairie. We presented a rather laughable appear- 
ance, for the cold and clammy buckskin, saturated with 
water, clung fast to our limbs. The light wind and warm 
sunshine soon dried it again, and then we were all encased 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 321 

in armor of intolerable stiffness. Roaming all day over 
the prairie and shooting two or three bulls, were scarcely 
enough to restore the stiffened leather to its usual plianc}^ 

Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I were the only hunt- 
ers in the party. Munroe this morning made an attempt 5 
to run a buffalo, but his horse could not come up to the 
game. Shaw went out with him, and being better mounted, 
soon found himself in the midst of the herd. Seeing nothing 
but cows and calves around him, he checked his horse. An 
old bull came galloping on the open prairie at some dis- 10 
tance behind, and turning, Shaw rode across his path, lev- 
elling his gun as he passed, and shooting him through the 
shoulder into the heart. 

A great flock of buzzards was usually soaring about a few 
trees that stood on the island just below our camp. Through- 15 
out the whole of yesterday we had noticed an eagle among 
them ; to-day he was still there ; and Tete Rouge, declaring 
that he would kill the bird of America, borrowed Deslau- 
riers's gun and set out on his unpatriotic mission. As might 
have been expected, the eagle suffered no harm at his hands. 20 
He soon returned, saying that he could not find him, but 
had shot a buzzard instead. Being required to produce the 
bird in proof of his assertion, he said he believed that he 
was not quite dead, but he must be hurt, from the swiftness 
with which he flew off. 25 

'' If you want," said Tete Rouge, '' I'll go and get one of 
his feathers ; I knocked off plenty of them when I shot him." 

Just opposite our camp, was another island covered with 
bushes, and behind it was a deep pool of water, while two 
or three considerable streams coursed over the sand not far 30 
off. I was bathing at this place in the afternoon when a 
white wolf, larger than the largest Newfoundland dog, ran 
out from behind the point of the island, and galloped lei- 
surely over the sand not half a stone's-throw distant. I could 
plainly see his red eyes and the bristles about his snout ; he 



322 THE OKEGOX TRAIL 

was an ugly scoundrel, with a bushy tail, a large head, and 
a most repulsive countenance. Having neither rifle to shoot 
nor stone to pelt him with, I was looking after some missile 
for his benefit, when the report of a gun came from the 

5 camp, and the ball threw up the sand just beyond him ; at 
this he gave a slight jump, and stretched away so swiftly 
that he soon dwindled into a mere speck on the distant sand- 
beds. The number of carcasses that by this time were lying 
about the neighboring prairie summoned the wolves from 

10 every quarter ; the spot where Shaw and Henry had hunted 
together soon became their favorite resort, for here about a 
dozen dead buffalo were fermenting under the hot sun. I 
used often to go over the river and watch them at their 
meal. By lying under the bank it was easy to get a full 

15 view of them. There were three different kinds : the white 
wolves and the gray wolves, both very large, and besides 
these the small prairie wolves, not much bigger than spaniels. 
They would howl and fight in a crowd around a single car- 
cass, yet they Avere so watchful, and their senses so acute, 

20 that I never was able to crawl within a fair shooting dis- 
tance ; whenever I attempted it, they would all scatter at 
once and glide silently away through the tall grass. The air 
above this spot was always full of turkey-buzzards or black 
vultures ; whenever the wolves left a carcass they would de- 

25 scend upon it, and cover it so densely that a rifle bullet shot 
at random among the gormandizing crowd would generally 
strike down two or three of them. These birds would often 
sail by scores just above our camp, their broad black wings 
seeming half transparent as they expanded them against the 

30 bright sky. The wolves and the buzzards thickened about us 
every hour, and two or three eagles also came to the feast. 
I killed a bull within rifle-shot of the camp ; that night the 
wolves made a fearful howling close at hand, and in the 
morning the carcass was completely hollowed out by these 
voracious feeders. 



THE BUFFALO CAMP 328 

After remaining four days at this camp we prepared to 
leave it. We had for our own part about five hundred 
pounds of dried meat, and the California men had prepared 
some tlu'ee hundred more ; this consisted of the fattest and 
choicest parts of eight or nine cows, a small quantity only 5 
being taken from each, and the rest abandoned to the wolves. 
The pack animals were laden, the horses saddled, and the 
mules harnessed to the cart. Even Tete Rouge was ready 
at last, and slowly moving from the ground, we resumed 
our journey eastward. When we had advanced about a mile, 10 
Shaw missed a valuable hunting-knife, and turned back in 
search of it, thinking that he had left it at the camp. The 
day was dark and gloomy. The ashes of the fires were still 
smoking by the river-side ; the grass around them was 
trampled down by men and horses, and strewn with all the 15 
litter of a camp. Our departure had been a gathering signal 
to the birds and beasts of prey. Scores of wolves were 
prowling about the smouldering fires, while multitudes were 
roaming over the neighboring prairie ; they all fled as Shaw 
approached, some running over the sand-beds and some over 20 
the grassy plains. The vultures in great clouds were soar- 
ing overhead, and the dead bull near the camp was com- 
pletely blackened by the flock that had alighted upon it; 
they flapped their broad wings, and stretched upwards their 
crested heads and long skinny necks, fearing to remain, yet 25 
reluctant to leave their disgusting feast. As he searched 
about the fires he saw the wolves seated on the hills waiting 
for his departure. Having looked in vain for his knife, he 
mounted again, and left the wolves and the vultures to 
banquet undisturbed. ao 



CHAPTER XXVI 
DOWN THE ARKANSAS 

In the summer of 1846, the wild and lonely banks of the 
Upper Arkansas beheld for the first time the passage of an 
army. General Kearney, on his march to Santa Fe, adopted 
this route in preference to the old trail of the Cimarron. 

5 When we were on the Arkansas, the main body of the troops 
had already passed on ; Price's Missouri regiment, however, 
was still on its way, having left the frontier much later than 
the rest ; and about this time we began to meet one or two 
companies at a time moving along the trail. No men ever 

10 embarked upon a military expedition with a greater love for 
the work before them than the Missourians ; but if discipline 
and subordination are the criterion of merit, they were 
worthless soldiers indeed. Yet when their exploits have 
rung through all America, it would be absurd to deny that 

15 they were excellent irregular troops. Their victories were 
gained in the teeth of every established precedent of war- 
fare ; and were owing to a combination of military quali- 
ties in the men themselves. Doniphan's regiment marched 
through New Mexico more like a band of free companions 

20 than like the paid soldiers of a modern government. When 
General Taylor complimented him on his success at Sacra- 
mento and elsewhere, the colonel's reply very well illustrates 
the relations which subsisted between the officers and men 
of his command. 

25 "I don't know anything of the manoeuvres. The boys 
kept coming to me, to let them charge ; and when I saw a 
good opportunity, I told them they might go. They were off 
like a shot, and that's all I know about it." 

324 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 325 

The backwoods lawyer was better fitted to conciliate the 
good-will than to command the obedience of his men. There 
were many serving., under him who both from character and 
education could better have held command than he. 

At the battle of Sacramento his frontiersmen fought under 5 
every disadvantage. The Mexicans had chosen their posi- 
tion ; they were drawn up across the valley that led to their 
native city of Chihuahua ; their whole front was covered by 
intrenchments and defended by batteries, and they outnum- 
bere*d the invaders five to one. An eagle flew over the lo 
Americans, and a deep murmur rose along their lines. The 
enemy's batteries opened ; long they remained under fire, 
but when at length the word was given, they shouted and 
ran forward. In one of the divisions, when midway to the 
enemy a drunken officer ordered a halt; the exasperated 15 
men hesitated to obey. 

'' Forward, boys ! " cried a private from the ranks ; and 
the Americans rushed like tigers upon the enemy. Four 
hundred Mexicans were slain upon the spot, and the rest 
fled, scattering over the plain like sheep. The standards, 20 
cannon, and baggage were taken, and among the rest a 
wagon laden with cords, which the Mexicans, in the fulness 
of their confidence, had made read}- for tying the American 
prisoners. 

Doniphan's volunteers, who gained this victory, passed up 25 
with the main army ; but Price's soldiers, whom we now 
met, were men from the same neighborhood, precisely 
similar in character, manners, and appearance. One morn- 
ing, as we were descending upon a wide meadow, where we 
meant to rest for an hour or two, we saw a body of horse- 30 
men approaching at a distance. In order to find water, we 
were obliged to turn aside to the river-bank, a full half-mile 
from the trail. Here we put up a kind of awning, and 
spreading buffalo-robes on the ground, Shaw and I sat 
down to smoke. 



326 THE OREGON TRAIL 

" We are going to catch it now," said Shaw ; " look at 
those fellows ; there '11 be no peace for us here." 

And in truth about half the volunteers had straggled 
away 'from the line of march, and were riding over the 
5 meadow towards us. 

" How are you ? " said the first who came up, alighting 
from his horse and throwing himself upon the ground. The 
rest followed close, and a score of them soon gathered about 
us, some lying at full length and some sitting on horseback. 

10 They all belonged to a company raised in St. Louis. There 
were some ruffian faces among them, and some haggard with 
debauchery ; but on the whole they were extremely good- 
looking men, superior beyond measure to the ordinary rank 
and file of an army. Except that they were booted to the 

15 knees, they wore their belts and military trappings over the 
ordinary dress of citizens. Besides their swords and holster 
pistols, they carried slung from their saddles the excellent 
Springfield carbines, loaded at the breech. They inquired 
the character of our party, and were anxious to know the 

20 prospect of killing buffalo, and the chance that their horses 

would stand the journey to Santa Fe. All this was well 

enough, but a moment after a worse visitation came upon us. 

" How are you, strangers ? whar are you going and whar 

are, you from ? " said a fellow, who came trotting up with 

25 an old straw hat on his head. He was dressed in the coars- 
est brown homespun cloth. His face was rather sallow from 
fever-and-ague, and his tall figure, though strong and sinewy, 
had a lean, angular look, which, together with his boorish 
seat on horseback, gave him an appearance anything but 

30 graceful. More of the same stamp were close behind him. 
Their company was raised in one of the frontier counties, 
and we soon had abundant evidence of their rustic breeding ; 
they came crowding round by scores, pushing between our 
first visitors, and staring at us with unabashed faces. 
" Are you the captain ? " asked one fellow. 



DOWN IHE ARKANSAS 827 

" What's your business out here ? " asked another. 

" Whar do you live when you 're to home ? '' said a third. 

"I reckon you're traders," surmised a fourth; and to 
crown the whole, one of them came confidentially to my side 
and inquired in a low voice, '' What 's your partner's name ? " 5 

As each new-comer repeated the same questions, the 
nuisance became intolerable. Our military visitors were 
soon disgusted at the concise nature of our replies, and we 
could overhear them muttering curses. While we sat smok- 
ing, not in the best imaginable humor, Tete Rouge's tongue lo 
was not idle. He never forgot his military character, and 
during the whole interview he was incessantly busy among 
his fellow-soldiers. At length we placed him on the ground 
before us, and told him that he might play the part of 
spokesman. Tete Rouge was delighted, and we soon had 15 
the satisfaction of seeing him gabble at such a rate that the 
torrent of questions was in a great measure diverted from 
us. A little while after, a cannon with four horses came 
lumbering up behind the crowd; and the driver, who was 
perched on one of the animals, stretching his neck so as 20 
to look over the rest of the men, called out, — 

" Whar are you from, and what 's your business ? " 

The captain of one of the companies was among our visi- 
tors, drawn by the same curiosity that had attracted his 
men. Unless their faces belied them, not a few in the 25 
crowd might with great advantage have changed places 
with their commander. 

" Well, men," said he, lazily, rising from the ground 
where he had been lounging, " it 's getting late ; I reckon 
we 'd better be moving." 30 

" I shan't start yet, anyhow," said one fellow, who was 
lying half asleep with his head resting on his arm. 

'' Don't be in a hurry, captain," added the lieutenant. 

'' Well, have it your own way ; we '11 wait a while longer," 
replied the obsequious commander. 



328 THE ORECiON TRAIL 

At length, however, our visitors went straggling away as 
they had come, and we, to our great relief, were left alone 
again. 

No one was more relieved than Deslauriers by the depar- 
5 ture of the volunteers ; for dinner was getting colder every 
moment. He spread a well-whitened buffalo-hide upon the 
grass, placed in the middle the juicy hump of a fat cow, 
ranged around it the tin plates and cups, and then announced 
that all was ready. Tete Kouge, with his usual alacrity 

10 on such occasions, was the first to take his seat. In his 
former capacity of steamboat clerk, he had learned to prefix 
the honorary Mister to everybody's name, whether of high 
or low degree ; so Jim Gurney was Mr. Gurney, Henry was 
Mr. Henry, and even Deslauriers, for the first time in his 

15 life, heard himself addressed as Mr. Deslauriers. This did 
not prevent his conceiving a violent enmity against Tete 
Rouge, who, in his futile though praiseworthy attempts to 
make himself useful, used always to intermeddle with cook- 
ing the dinners. Deslauriers's disposition knew no medium 

20 between smiles and sunshine and a downright tornado of 
wrath; he said nothing to Tete Rouge, but his wrongs 
rankled in his breast. Tete Rouge had taken his place at 
dinner; it was his happiest moment; he sat enveloped in 
the old buffalo-coat, sleeves turned up in preparation for the 

25 work, and his short legs crossed on the grass before him ; 
he had a cup of coffee by his side and his knife ready in his 
hand, and while he looked upon the fat hump-ribs, his eyes 
dilated with anticipation. Deslauriers sat opposite to him, 
and the rest of us by this time had taken our seats. 

30 " How is this, Deslauriers ? You have n't given us bread 
enough." 

At this Deslauriers's placid face flew into a paroxysm of 
contortions. He grinned with wrath, chattered, gesticulated, 
and hurled forth a volley of incoherent words in broken 
English at the astonished TSte Rouge. It was just possible 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 329 

to make out that he was accusing him of having stolen and 
eaten four large cakes which had been laid by for dinner. 
Tete Rouge, confounded at this sudden attack, stared at his 
assailant for a moment in dumb amazement, with mouth and 
eyes wide open. At last he found speech, and protested that 5 
the accusation was false ; and that he could not conceive 
how he had offended Mr. Deslauriers, or provoked him to 
use such ungentlemanly expressions. The tempest of words 
raged with such fury that nothing else could be heard. But 
Tete Rouge, from his greater command of English, had a lo 
manifest advantage over Deslauriers, who, after sputtering 
and grimacing for a while, found his words quite inadequate 
to the expression of his wrath. He jumped up and vanished, 
jerking out "between his teeth one furious sacre enfant cU 
garce! a Canadian title of honor, made doubly emphatic 15 
by being usually applied together with a cut of the whip 
to refractory mules and horses. 

The next morning we saw an old buffalo bull escorting 
his cow with two small calves over the prairie. Close be- 
hind came four or five large white wolves, sneaking stealthily 20 
through the long meadow-grass, and watching for the mo- 
ment when one of the children should chance to lag behind 
his parents. The old bull kept well on his guard, and faced 
about now and then to keep the prowling ruflBans at a 
distance. 25 

As we approached our nooning-place, we saw five or six 
buffalo standing at the summit of a tall bluff. Trotting 
forward to the spot where we meant to stop, I flung off 
my saddle and turned my horse loose. By making a circuit 
under cover of some rising ground, I reached the foot of 30 
the bluff unnoticed, and climbed up its steep side. Lying 
under the brow of the declivity, I prepared to fire at the 
buffalo, who stood on the flat surface above, not five yards 
distant. The gleaming rifle-barrel levelled over the edge 
caught their notice, and they turned and ran. Close as they 



8o0 THE OREGON" TRAIE 

were, it was impossible to kill them when in that position, ' 
and stepping upon the summit, I pursued them over the 
high arid table-land. It was extremely rugged and broken ; 
a great sandy ravine was channelled through it, with smaller 
o ravines entering on each side, like tributary streams. The 
buifalo scattered, and I soon lost sight of most of them as 
they scuttled away through the sandy chasms ; a bull and 
a cow alone kept in view. For a while they ran along the 
edge of the great ravine, appearing and disappearing as they 

10 dived into some chasm and again emerged from it. At last 
they stretched out upon the broad prairie, — a plain nearly 
flat and almost devoid of verdure, for every short grass-blade 
was dried and shrivelled by the glaring sun. Xow and then 
the old bull would face towards me ; whenever he did so I 

15 fell to the ground and lay motionless. In this manner I 
chased them for about two miles, until at length I heard in 
front a deep, hoarse bellowing. A moment after, a band of 
about a hundred bulls, before hidden by a slight swell of 
the plain, came at once into view. The fugitives ran towards 

20 them. Instead of mingling with the band, as I expected, 
they passed directly through, and continued their flight. 
At this I gave up the chase, crawled to within gun-shot of 
the bulls, and sat down on the ground to watch them. ^ly 
presence did not disturb them in the least. They were not 

25 feeding, for there was nothing to eat ; but they seemed to 
have chosen the parched and scorching desert as their play- 
ground. Some were rolling on the ground amid a cloud of 
dust ; others, with a hoarse rumbling bellow, were butting 
their large heads together, while many stood motionless, as 

30 if quite inanimate. Except their monstrous growth of tangled 
grizzly mane, they had no hair ; for their old coat had fallen 
off in the spring, and their new one had not as yet appeared. 
Sometimes an old bull would step forward, and gaze at me 
with a grim and stupid countenance ; then he would turn 
and butt his next neighbor; then he would lie down and 



DOWX THP: ARKANSAS 331 

roll over in the dust, kicking his hoofs in the air. When 
satisfied with this amusement, he would jerk his head and 
shoulders upward, and resting on his forelegs, stare at me 
in this position, half blinded by his mane, and his face 
covered with dirt ; then up he would spring upon all fours, 5 
shake his dusty sides, turn half round, and stand with his 
beard touching the ground, in an attitude of profound ab- 
straction, as if reflecting on his puerile conduct. '' You are 
too ugly to live," thought I ; and aiming at the ugliest, I 
shot three of them in succession. The rest were not at all lo 
discomposed at this ; they kept on bellowing, butting, and 
rolling on the ground as before. Henry Chatillon always 
cautioned us to keep perfectly quiet in the presence of a 
wounded buffalo, for any movement is apt to excite him to 
make an attack ; so I sat still upon the ground, loading and 15 
firing with as little motion as possible. While I was thus 
employed, a spectator made his appearance : a little ante- 
lope came running up to within fifty yards ; and there it 
stood, its slender neck arched, its small horns thrown back, 
and its large dark eyes gazing on me with a look of eager 20 
curiosity. By the side of the shaggy and brutish monsters 
before me, it seemed like some lovely young girl in a den of 
robbers or a nest of bearded pirates. The buffalo looked 
uglier than ever. " Here goes for another of you," thought 
I, feeling in my pouch for a percussion-cap. jSTot a percussion- 25 
cap was there. My good rifle was useless as an old iron bar. 
One of the wounded bulls had not yet fallen, and I waited 
for some time, hoping every moment that his strength 
would fail him. He still stood firm, looking grimly at me, 
and, disregarding Henry's advice, I rose and walked away. 30 
]\Iany of the bulls turned and looked at me, but the wounded 
brute made no attack. I soon came upon a deep ravine which 
would give me shelter in case of emergency ; so I turned 
round and threw a stone at the bulls. They received it with 
the utmost indifference. Feeling myself insulted at their 



332 THE OREGON TRAIL 

refusal to be frightened, I swung my hat, shouted, and " 
made a show of running towards them ; at this they 
crowded together and galloped off, leaving their dead and 
wounded upon the field. As I moved towards the camp I 

5 saw the last survivor totter and fall dead. My speed in re- 
turning was wonderfully quickened by the reflection that 
the Pawnees were abroad, and that I was defenceless in case 
of meeting with an enemy. I saw no living thing, however, 
except two or three squalid old bulls scrambling among 

10 the sand-hills that flanked the great ravine. When I reached 

camp the party were nearly ready for the afternoon move. 

We encamped that evening at a short distance from the 

river-bank. About midnight, as we all lay asleep on the 

ground, the man nearest to me, gently reaching out his hand, 

15 touched my shoulder, and cautioned me at the same tmie 
not to move. It was bright starlight. Opening my eyes and 
slightly turning, I saw a large white wolf moving stealthily 
around the embers of our fire, with his nose close to the 
ground. Disengaging my hand from the blanket, I drew 

20 the cover from my rifle, which lay close at my side ; the 
motion alarmed the wolf, and with long leaps he bounded out 
of the camp. Jumping up, I fired after him, when he was 
about thirty yards distant ; the melancholy hum of the 
bullet sounded far away through the night. At the sharp 

25 report, so suddenly breaking upon the stillness, all the men 
sprang up. 

" You 've killed him," said one of them. 
" No, I have n't," said I ; '' there he goes, running along 
the river." 

30 " Then there 's two of them. Don't you see that one lying 
out yonder ? " 

We went out to it, and instead of a dead white wolf, 
found the bleached skull of a buffalo. I had missed my 
mark, and, what was worse, had grossly violated a standing 
law of the prairie. When in a dangerous part of the country, 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 333 

it is considered highly imprudent to fire a gun after en- 
camping, lest the report should reach the ears of Indians. 

The horses were saddled in the morning, and the last man 
had lighted his pipe at the dying ashes of the fire. The 
beauty of the day enlivened us all. Even Ellis felt its in- 5 
fluence, and occasionally made a remark as we rode along, 
and Jim Gurney. told endless stories of his cruisings in the 
United States service. The buffalo were abundant, and at 
length aiarge band of them went running up the hills on 
the left. 10 

" Too good a chance to lose," said Shaw. We lashed our 
horses and galloped after them. Shaw killed one with each 
barrel of his gun, I separated another from the herd and 
shot him. The small bullet of the rifle-pistol striking too 
far back did not immediately take effect, and the bull ran 15 
on with unabated speed. Again and again I snapped the 
remaining pistol at him. I primed it afresh three or four 
times, and each time it missed fire, for the touch-hole was 
clogged up. Returning it to the holster, I began to load the 
empty pistol, still galloping by the side of the bull. By this 20 
time he had grown desperate. The foam flew from his jaws 
and his tongue lolled out. Before the pistol was loaded he 
sprang upon me, and followed up his attack with a furious 
rush. The only alternative was to run away or be killed. 
I took to flight, and the bull, bristling with fury, pursued 25 
me closely. The pistol was soon ready, and then looking 
back I saw his head five or six yards behind my horse's tail. 
To fire at it would be useless, for a bullet flattens against 
the adamantine skull of a buffalo bull. Inclining my body 
to the left, I turned my horse in that direction as sharply 30 
as his speed would permit. The bull, rushing blindly on 
with great force and weight, did not turn so quickly. As I 
looked back, his neck and shoulder were exposed to view; 
and, turning in the saddle, I shot a bullet through them 
obliquely into his vitals. He gave over the chase and soon 



334 THE OREGON TRAIL 

fell to the ground. An English tourist represents a situation 
like this as one of imminent danger : this is a mistake ; the 
bull never pursues long, and the horse must be wretched 
indeed that cannot keep out of his way for two or three 
5 minutes. 

We were now come to a part of the country where we 
were bound in common prudence to use every possible pre- 
caution. We mounted guard at night, each man standing 
in his turn ; and no one ever slept without drawing his rifle 

10 close to his side or folding it with him in his blanket. One 
morning our vigilance was stimulated by finding traces of a 
large Camanche encampment. Fortunately for us, however, 
it had been abandoned nearly a week. On the next evening 
we found the ashes of a recent fire, which gave us at the 

15 time some uneasiness. At length we reached the Caches, a 
place of dangerous repute ; and it had a most dangerous 
appearance, consisting of sand-hills everywhere broken by 
ravines and deep chasms. Here we found the grave of Swan, 
killed at this place, probably by the Pawnees, two or three 

20 weeks before. His remains, more than once violated by the 
Indians and the wolves, were suffered at length to remain 
undisturbed in their wild burial-place. 

For several days we met detached companies of Price's 
regiment. Horses would often break loose at night from 

25 their camps. One afternoon we picked up three of these 
stragglers quietly grazing along the river. After we came 
to camp that evening, Jim Gurney brought news that more 
of them were in sight. It was nearly dark, and a cold, driz- 
zling rain had set in ; but we all turned out, and after an 

30 hour's chase nine horses were caught and brought in. One 
of them was equipped with saddle and bridle ; pistols were 
hanging at the pommel of the saddle, a carbine was slung 
at its side, and a blanket rolled up behind it. In the morn- 
ing, as we resumed our journey, our cavalcade presented a 
much more imposing appearance than ever before. We kept 



II 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 385 

on till the afternoon, when, far behind, three horsemen ap- 
peared on the horizon. Coming on at a hand-gallop, they 
soon overtook us, and claimed all the horses as belonging 
to themselves and others of their company. They were of 
course given up, very much to the mortification of Ellis 5 
and Jim Gurney. 

Our own horses now showed signs of fatigue, and we re- 
solved to give them half a day's rest. We stopped at noon 
at a grassy spot by the river. After dinner Shaw and Henry 
went out to hunt ; and while the men lounged about the lo 
camp, I lay down to read in the shadow of the cart. Look- 
ing up, I saw a bull grazing alone on the prairie more than 
a mile distant, and taking my rifle I walked towards him. 
As I came near, I crawled upon the ground until I ap- 
proached to within a hundred yards ; here I sat down upon 15 
the grass and waited till he should turn himself into a proper 
position to receive his death-wound. He was a grim old 
veteran. His loves and his battles were over for that season, 
and now, gaunt and war-worn, he had withdrawn from the 
herd to graze by himself and recruit his exhausted strength. 20 
He was miserably emaciated ; his mane was all in tatters ; 
his hide was bare and rough as an elephant's, and covered 
with dried patches of the mud in which he had been wallow- 
ing. He showed all his ribs whenever he moved. He looked 
like some grizzly old ruffian grown gray in blood and vio- 25 
lence, and scowling on all the world from his misanthropic 
seclusion. The old savage looked up when I first approached, 
and gave me a fierce stare ; then he fell to grazing again 
with an air of contemptuous indifference. The moment after, 
as if suddenly recollecting himself, he threw up his head, 30 
faced quickly about, and to my amazement came at a rapid 
trot directly towards me. I was strongly impelled to get up 
and run, but this would have been very dangerous. Sitting 
quite still, I aimed, as he came on, at the thin part of the 
skull above the nose, hoping that the shot might have the 



336 THE OREGON TRAIL 

effect of turning him. After he had passed over about three- !||| 
quarters of the distance between us, I was on the point 
of firing, when, to my great satisfaction, he stopped short. 
I had full opportunity of studying his countenance ; his 

5 whole front was covered with a huge mass of coarse matted 
hair, which hung so low that nothing but his two forefeet 
were visible beneath it ; his short thick horns were blunted 
and split to the very roots in his various battles, and across 
his nose and forehead were two or three large white scars, 

10 which gave him a grim, and at the same time a whimsical, 
appearance. It seemed to me that he stood there motionless 
for a full quarter of an hour staring at me through the 
tangled locks of his mane. For my part, I remained as quiet 
as he, and looked quite as hard. I felt greatly inclined to 

15 come to terms with him. " My friend," thought I, " if you '11 
let me off, I'll let you off." At length he seemed to have 
abandoned any hostile design. Very slowly and deliberately 
he began to turn about ; little by little his side came into 
view, all beplastered with mud. It was a tempting sight. I 

20 forgot my prudent intentions, and fired my rifle ; a pistol 
would have served at that distance. The old bull spun round 
like a top, and galloped away over the prairie. He ran some 
distance, and even ascended a considerable hill, before he 
lay down and died. After shooting another bull among the 

25 hills, I went back to camp. 

At noon, on the fourteenth of September, a very large 
Santa Fe caravan came up. The plain was covered with the 
long files of their white-topped wagons, the close black car- 
riages in which the traders travel and sleep, large droves of 

30 mules and horses, and men on horseback and on foot. They 
all stopped on the meadow near us. Our diminutive cart 
and handful of men made but an insignificant figure by the 
side of their wide and bustling camp. Tete Rouge went to 
visit them, and soon came back with half a dozen biscuit in 
one hand, and a bottle of brandy in the other. I inquired 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 337 

where he got them. '' Oh," said Tete Kouge, " I know some 
of the traders. Dr. Dobbs is there, besides." I asked who 
Dr. Dobbs might be. '' One of our St. Louis doctors," re- 
plied Tete Rouge. For two days past I had been severely at- 
tacked by the same disorder which had so greatly reduced my 5 
strength when at the mountains ; at this time I was suffering 
not a little from pain and weakness. Tete Rouge, in answer 
to my inquiries, declared that Dr. Dobbs was a physician of 
the first standing. Without at all believing him, I resolved 
to consult this eminent practitioner. Walking^ over to the 10 
camp, I found him lying sound asleep under one of the 
wagons. He offered in his own person but indifferent evi- 
dence of his skill, for it was five months since I had seen so 
cadaverous a face. His hat had fallen off, and his yellow 
hair was all in disorder ; one of his arms supplied the place 15 
of a pillow ; his trousers were wrinkled halfway up to his 
knees, and he was covered with little bits of grass and straw 
upon which he had rolled in his uneasy slumber. A Mexi- 
can stood near, and I made him a sign to touch the doctor. 
Up sprang the learned Dobbs, and sitting upright rubbed 20 
his eyes and looked about him in bewilderment. I regretted 
the necessity of disturbing him, and said I had come to ask 
professional advice. 

'"• Your system, sir, is in a disordered state," said he, 
solemnly, after a short examination. 25 

I inquired what might be the particular species of dis- 
order. 

'' Evidently a morbid action of the liver," replied the 
medical man ; '' I will give you a prescription." 

Repairing to the back of one of the covered wagons, he 30 
scrambled in ; for a moment I could see nothing of him 
but his boots. At length he produced a box which he had 
extracted from some dark recess within, and, opening it, 
presented me with a folded paper. " W^hat is it ? " said I. 
'' Calomel," said the doctor. 



338 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Under the circumstances I would have taken ahnost any- , ,. 
thing. There was not enough to do me much harm, and it 1 1 
might possibly do good ; so at camj) that night I took the 
poison instead of supper. 
5 That camp is worthy of notice. The traders warned us 
not to follow the main trail along the river, " unless," as 
one of them observed, " you want to have your throats cut ! " 
The river at this place makes a bend ; and a smaller trail, 
known as " the Kidge-path," leads directly across the prairie 

10 from point to point, a distance of sixty or seventy miles. 

We followed this trail, and after travelling seven or eight 

miles, came to a small stream, where we encamped. Our 

position was not chosen with much forethought or military 

skill. The water was in a deep hollow, with steep, high 

15 banks ; on the grassy bottom of this hollow we picketed our 
horses, while we ourselves encamped upon the barren prairie 
just above. The opportunity was admirable either for driv- 
ing off our horses or attacking us. After dark, as Tete 
Rouge was sitting at supper, we observed him pointing with 

20 a face of speechless horror over the shoulder of Henry, who 
was opposite to him. Aloof amid the darkness appeared a 
gigantic black apparition, solemnly swaying to and fro as 
it advanced steadily upon us. Henry, half vexed and half 
amused, jumped up, spread out his arms, and shouted. The 

25 invader was an old buffalo bull, who, with characteristic 
stupidity, was walking directly into camp. It cost some 
shouting and swinging of hats before we could bring him 
first to a halt and then to a rapid retreat. 

The moon was full and bright; but as the black clouds 

30 chased rapidly over it, we were at one moment in light and 
at the next in darkness. As the evening advanced, a thun- 
der-storm came up and struck us with such violence that the 
tent would have been blown over if we had not interposed 
the cart to break the force of the wind. At length it sub- 
sided to a steady rain. I lay awake through nearly the whole 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS 339 

night, listening to its dull patter upon the canvas above. 
The moisture, which filled the tent and trickled from every- 
thing in it, did not add to the comfort of the situation. 
About twelve o'clock Shaw went out to stand guard amid 
the rain and pitchy darkness. Munroe was also on the alert. 5 
When about two hours had passed, Shaw came silently in, 
and, touching Henry, called to him in a low, quick voice to 
come out. '' What is it ? " I asked. " Indians, I believe," 
whisjjered Shaw ; " but lie still ; I '11 call you if there 's a 
fight." " 10 

He and Henry went out together. I took the cover from 
my rifle, put a fresh percussion-cap upon it, and then, being 
in much pain, lay down again. In about five minutes Shaw 
returned. " All right," he said, as he lay down to sleep. 
Henry was now standing guard in his place. He told me in 15 
the morning the particulars of the alarm. Munroe's watch- 
ful eye had discovered some dark objects down in the hol- 
low, among the horses, like men creeping on all-fours. Ly- 
ing flat on their faces, he and Shaw crawled to the edge of 
the bank, and were soon convinced that these dark objects 20 
were Indians. Shaw silently withdrew to call Henry, and 
they all lay watching in the same position. Henry's eye is 
one of the best on the prairie. He detected after a while the 
true nature of the intruders ; they were nothing but wolves 
creeping among the horses. 25 

It is very singular that, when picketed near a camp, 
horses seldom show any fear of such an intrusion. The 
wolves appear to have no other object than that of gnawing 
the trail-ropes of raw hide by which the animals are secured. 
Several times in the course of the journey my horse's trail- 30 
rope was bitten in two by these nocturnal visitors. 



CHAPTEE XXVII 
THE SETTLEMENTS 

The next day was extremely hot, and we rode from morn- 
ing till night without seeing a tree, a bush, or a drop of 
water. Our horses and mules suffered much more than we, 
but as sunset approached, they pricked up their ears and 
5 mended their pace. Water was not far off. When we came 
to the descent of the broad shallow valley where it lay, an 
unlooked-for sight awaited us. The stream glistened at the 
bottom, and along its banks were pitched a multitude of 
tents, while hundreds of cattle were feeding over the mead- 

10 ows. Bodies of troops, both horse and foot, and long trains 
of wagons, with men, women, and children, were moving 
over the opposite ridge and descending the broad declivity 
before us. These were the Mormon battalion in the service 
of government, together with a considerable number of 

15 Missouri Volunteers. The Mormons were to be paid off in 
California, and they were allowed to bring with them their 
families and property. There was something very striking in 
the half military, half-patriarchal appearance of these armed 
fanatics, thus on their way with their wives and children, to 

20 found, it might be, a Mormon empire in California. We 
were much more astonished than pleased at the sight before 
us. In order to find an unoccupied camping-ground, we were 
obliged to pass a quarter of a mile up the stream, and here 
we were soon beset by a swarm of Mormons and Missourians. 

25 The United States officer in command of the whole came 
also to visit us, and remained some time at our camp. 

In the morning the country was covered with mist. We 
were always early risers, but before we were ready, the 

340 



THE SETTLEMENTS 341 

voices of men driving in the cattle sounded all around us. 
As we passed above their camp, we saw^ through the obscurity 
that the tents were falling, and the ranks rapidly forming ; 
and, mingled with the cries of women and children, the 
rolling of the Mormon drums and the clear blast of their 5 
trumpets sounded through the mist. 

From that time to the journey's end, we met almost every 
day long trains of government wagons, laden with stores for 
the troops, crawling at a snail's pace towards Santa Fe. 

Tete Kouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but one 10 
evening he achieved an adventure more perilous than had 
befallen any man in the part}'. The day after we left the 
Bidge-path we encamped close to the river, and at sunset 
saw a train of wagons encamping on the 'trail, about three 
miles off. Though we saw them distinctly, our little cart, as 15 
it afterwards proved, entirely escaped their notice. For some 
days Tete Rouge had been longing for a dram of whiskey. 
So, resolving to improve the present opportunity, he mounted 
his horse " James," which he had obtained from the volun- 
teers in exchange for his mule, slung his canteen over his 20 
shoulder, and set out in search of his favorite liquor. Some 
hours passed without his returning. We thought that he was 
lost, or perhaps that some stray Indian had snapped him 
up. While the rest fell asleep I remained on guard. Late 
at night a t-remulous voice saluted me from the darkness, 25 
and Tete Rouge and James soon became visible, advancing 
towards the camp. Tete Rouge was in much agitation and 
big with important tidings. Sitting down on the shaft of 
the cart, he told the following story : — 

When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how late 30 
it was. By the time he approached the wagoners it was 
perfectly dark ; and as he saw them all sitting around their 
hres within the circle of wagons, their guns laid by their 
sides, he thought he might as well give warning of his ap- 
proach, in order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. Raising 



342 THE OREGON TRAIL 

his voice to the highest pitch, he screamed out in prolonged 
accents, " Camp ahoy ! " This eccentric salutation produced 
anything but the desired effect. Hearing such hideous 
sounds proceeding from the outer darkness, the wagoners 
5 thought that the whole Pawnee nation were upon them. Up 
they sprang, wild with terror. Each man snatched his gun ; 
some stood behind the wagons ; some threw themselves flat 
on the ground, and in an instant twenty cocked muskets 
were levelled full at the horrified Tete Rouge, who just 
10 then began to be visible through the gloom. 

" Thar they come," cried the master wagoner ; " fire, fire, 
shoot that feller." 

" No, no ! " screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy of fright ; 

" don't fire, don't ; I 'm a friend, I 'm an American citizen ! " 

15 '^ You 're a friend, be you ? " cried a gruff voice from the 

wagons ; " then what are you yellin' out thar for like a 

wild Injun ? Come along up here if you 're a man." 

" Keep your guns p'inted at him," added the master wag- 
oner ; " maybe he 's a decoy, like." 
20 Tete Rouge in utter bewilderment made his approach, with 
the gaping muzzles of the muskets still before his eyes. He 
succeeded at last in explaining his true character, and the 
Missourians admitted him into camp. He got no whiskey ; 
but as he represented himself as a great invalid, and suffer- 
25 ing much from coarse fare, they made up a contribution for 
him of rice, biscuit, and sugar from their own rations. 

In the morning at breakfast, Tete Rouge once more re- 
lated this story. We hardly knew how much of it to believe, 
though after some cross-questioning we failed to discover 
30 any flaw in the narrative. Passing by the wagoners' camp, 
they confirmed Tete Rouge's account in every particular. 

" I would n't have been in that feller's place," said one of 
*them, " for the biggest heap of money in Missouri." 

A day or two after, we had an adventure of another sort 
with a party of wagoners. Henry and I rode forward to 



THE SETTLEMENTS 343 

hunt. After that day there was no probability that we 
should meet with buffalo, and we were anxious to kill one, 
for a supply of fresh meat. They were so wild that we 
hunted all the morning in vain, but at noon as we approached 
Cow Creek we saw a large band feeding near its margin. 5 
Cow Creek is densely lined with trees which intercept the 
view beyond, and it runs, as we afterwards found, at the 
bottom, of a deep trench. We approached by riding along 
the bottom of a ravine. When we were near enough, I held 
the horses while Henry crept towards the buffalo. I saw lo 
him take his seat within shooting distance, prepare his rifle, 
and look about to select his victim. The death of a fat cow 
seemed certain, when suddenly a great smoke and a rattling 
volley of musketry rose from the bed of the creek. A score 
of long-legged Missourians leaped out from among the trees 15 
and ran after the buffalo, who one and all took to their heels 
and vanished. These fellows had crawled up the bed of the 
creek to within a hundred yards of the game. iSTever was 
there a fairer chance for a shot. They were good marksmen ; 
all cracked away at once, and yet not a buffalo fell. In fact, the 20 
animal is so tenacious of life that it requires no little knowl- 
edge of anatomy to kill it, and it is very seldom that a novice 
succeeds in his first attemj^t at approaching. The balked 
Missourians were excessively mortified, especially when 
Henry told them that if they had kept quiet he would have 25 
killed meat enough in ten minutes to feed their whole party. 
Our friends, who were at no great distance, hearing the fusil- 
lade, thought that the Indians had fired the volley for our 
benefit. Shaw came galloping on to reconnoitre and learn 
if we were yet among the living. 30 

At Cow Creek we found the welcome novelty of ripe 
grapes and plums, which grew there in abundance. At 
the Little Arkansas, not much farther on, we saw the last 
buffalo, a miserable old bull, roaming over the prairie 
melancholv and alone. 



344 THE OREGON TRAIL 

From this time forward the character of the county was 
changing every day. We had left behind us the great arid 
deserts, meagrely covered by the tufted buffalo-grass, with 
its pale green hue and its short shrivelled blades. The plains 

5 before us were carpeted with rich herbage sprinkled with 
flowers. In place of buffalo we found plenty of prairie-hens, 
and bagged them by dozens without leaving the trail. In 
three or four days we saw before us the forests and meadows 
of Council Grove. It seemed like a new sensation as we 

10 rode beneath the resounding arches of these noble woods, 
— ash, oak, elm, maple, and hickory, festooned with enor- 
mous grape-vines, purple with fruit. The shouts of our 
scattered party, and now and then the report of a rifle, 
rang through the breathless stillness of the forest. We rode 

15 out again with regret into the broad light of the open 
prairie. Little more than a hundred miles now separated us 
from the frontier settlements. The whole intervening country 
was a succession of green prairies, rising in broad swells and 
relieved by trees clustering like an oasis around some spring, 

20 or following the course of a stream along some fertile hol- 
low. These are the prairies of the poet and the novelist. We 
had left danger behind us. Nothing was to be feared from 
the Indians of this region, the Sacs and Foxes, Kanzas and 
Osages. We had met with rare good fortune. Although for 

25 five months we had been travelling with an insufficient force 
through a country where we were at any moment liable to 
depredation, not a single animal had been stolen from us, 
and our only loss had been one old mule bitten to death by 
a rattlesnake. Three weeks after we reached the frontier, 

30 the Pawnees and the Camanches began a regular series of 
hostilities on the Arkansas trail, killing men and driv-ing 
off horses. They attacked, without exception, every party, 
large or small, that passed during the next six months. 

Diamond Spring, Rock Creek, Elder Grove, and other 
'camping places besides, were passed in quick succession. 



THE SETTLEMENTS 345 

At Rock Creek we found a train of government provision- 
wagons under the charge of an emaciated old man in his 
seventy-first year. Some restless American devil had driven_ 
him into the wilderness at a time of life when he should 
have been seated at his fireside with his grandchildren 5 
on his knees, I am convinced that he never returned ; he 
was complaining that night of a disease, the wasting effects 
of which upon a younger and stronger man, I m^^self had 
proved' from severe experience. Long before this no doubt 
the wolves have howled their moonlight carnival over the lo 
old man's attenuated remains. 

Not long after we came to a small trail leading to Fort 
Leavenworth, distant but one day's journey. Tete Eouge 
here took leave of us. He was anxious to go to the fort in 
order to receive payment for his valuable military services. 15 
So he and his horse James, after an affectionate farewell, set 
out together, with what provisions they could conveniently 
carry, including a large quantity of brown sugar. On a 
cheerless rainy evening we came to our last 'camping ground. 

In the morning we mounted once more. In spite of the 20 
dreary rain of yesterday, tliQre never was a brighter autumnal 
morning than that on which we returned to the settlements. 
We were passing through the country of the half-civilized 
Shawanoes. It was a beautiful alternation of fertile plains 
and groves just tinged with the hues of autumn, while close 25 
beneath them nestled the log-houses of the Indian farmers. 
Every field and meadow bespoke the exuberant fertility of 
the soil. The maize stood rustling in the wind, ripe and 
dry, its shining yellow ears thrust out between the gaping 
husks. Squashes and huge yellow pumpkins lay basking in 30 
the sun in the midst of their brown and shrivelled leaves. 
Robins and blackbirds flew about the fences, and everything 
betokened our near aj^proach to home and civilization. The 
forests that border the Missouri soon rose before us, and we 
entered the wide tract of bushes which forms their outskirts. 



346 THE OREGOJ^ TRAIL 

We had passed the same road on our outward journey in the 
spring, but its aspect was now totally changed. The young 
wild apple-trees, then flushed with their fragrant blossoms, 
were hung thickly with ruddy fruit. Tall grass grew by the 
5 roadside in place of tender shoots just peeping from the 
warm and oozy soil. The vines were laden with purple 
grapes, and the slender twigs of the swamp maple, then 
tasselled with their clusters of small red flowers, now hung 
out a gorgeous display of leaves stained by the frost with 
10 burning crimson. One very side we saw tokens of ma- 
turity and decay where all had before been fresh with open- 
ing life. We entered the forest, checkered, as we passed 
along, by the bright spots of sunlight that fell between the 
opening boughs. On either side rich masses of foliage al- 
ls most excluded the sun, though here and there its rays could 
find their way down, striking through the broad leaves and 
lighting them with a pure transparent green. Squirrels 
barked at us from the trees ; coveys- of young partridges 
ran rustling over the fallen leaves, and the golden oriole, 
20 the blue-jay, and the flaming red-bird darted among the 
shadowy branches. We hailed .these sights and sounds of 
beauty by no means with unmingled pleasure. Many and 
powerful as were the attractions of the settlements, we 
looked back regretfully to the wilderness behind us. 
25 At length we saw the roof of a white man's dwelling 
between the opening trees. A few moments after, we were 
riding over the miserable log-bridge that led into West- 
port. Westport had beheld strange scenes, but a rougher- 
looking troop than ours, with our worn equipments and 
30 broken-down horses, was never seen even there. We passed 
the well-remembered tavern, Boone's grocery, and old Vogel's 
dram-shop, and encamped on a meadow beyond. Here we 
were soon visited by a number of people who came to pur- 
chase our horses and equipments. This matter disposed of, 
we hired a wagon and drove to Kanzas landing. Here we 



THE SETTLEMENTS 347 

were again received under the hospitable roof of our old 
friend Colonel Chick, and seated under his porch, we looked 
down once more on the eddies of the Missouri. 

Deslauriers made his appearance in the morning, strangely 
transformed by a hat, a coat, and a razor. His little log- 5 
house was among the woods not far off. It seems he had 
meditated giving a ball in honor of his return, and had con- 
sulted Henry Chatillon, as to whether it would do to invite 
his bourgeois. Henry expressed his entire conviction that 
we would not take it amiss, and the invitation was now 10 
proffered accordingly, Deslauriers adding as a special in- 
ducement that Antoine Lajeunesse Avas to play the fiddle. 
We told him we would certainly come, but before evening 
the arrival of a steamboat from Fort Leavenworth prevented 
our being present at the expected festivities. Deslauriers 15 
was on the rock at the landing-place, waiting to take leave 
of us. 

" Adieu ! mes bourgeois, adieu ! adieu ! " he cried, as the 
boat put off ; " w^hen you go another time to de Rocky 
Montagues I will go with 3'ou ; yes, I will go ! " 20 

He accompanied this assurance by jumping about, swing- 
ing his hat, and grinning from ear to ear. As the boat 
rounded a distant point, the last object that met our eyes 
was Deslauriers still lifting his hat and skipping about the 
rock. We had taken leave of Munroe and Jim Gurney at 25 
Westport, and Henry Chatillon went down in the boat 
with us. 

The passage to St. Louis occupied eight days, during 
about a third of which time we were fast aground on sand- 
bars. We passed the steamer '' Amelia " crowded with a 30 
roaring crew of disbanded volunteers, swearing, drinking, 
gambling, and fighting. At length one evening we reached 
the crowded levee of St. Louis. Repairing to the Planters' 
House, we caused diligent search to be made for our trunks, 
which were at length discovered stowed away in the farthest 



348 THE OREGON TRAIL 

corner of the store-room. In the morning, transformed 
by the magic of the tailor's art, we hardly recognized each 
other. 

On the evening before our departure, Henry Chatillon 
5 came to our rooms at the Planters' House to take leave of 
us. No one who met him in the streets of St. Louis would 
have taken him for a hunter fresh from the Rocky Moun- 
tains. He was very neatly and simply dressed in a suit of 
dark cloth ; for although since his sixteenth year he had 

10 scarcely been for a month together among the abodes of 
men, he had a native good taste which always led him to 
pay great attention to his personal appearance. His tall 
athletic figure with its easy flexible motions appeared to 
advantage in his present dress ; and his fine face, though 

15 roughened by a thousand storms, was not at all out of keep- 
ing with it. He had served us with a fidelity and zeal be- 
yond all praise. We took leave of him with regret; and 
unless his changing features, as he shook us by the hand, 
belied him, the feeling on his part was no less than on ours. 

20 Shaw had given him a horse at Westport. My rifle, an ex- 
cellent piece, which he had always been fond of using, is 
now in his hands, and perhaps at this moment its sharp 
voice is startling the echoes of the Rocky Mountains. On 
the next morning we left town, and after a fortnight of rail- 

25 roads, coaches, and steamboats, saw once more the familiar 
features of home. 



NOTES 



xxxii 9 woman's rights : of which, at least as far as the suffrage 
is concerned, Parkman was a sturdy, though courteous, opponent. 

xxxii 30 I went ... to prepare for a literary undertaking : the 
series of liistorical works (see Introduction). 

xxxii 32 inexorable circumstances : Parkman \s eye trouble (see 
Introduction). 

xxxvi 18 Mr. Remington : Frederick Remington, who also is now 
gone (1861-1909). 

1 1 St. Louis : founded as a post of the French fur trade in 
1764 by Laclede, and named after Louis IX, the patron saint of the 
reigning king, Louis XV. It became the emporium of the Ameri- 
can fur trade, and winter rendezvous of representatives of fur com- 
panies and free trappers operating in the Rockies. See Parkman, 
The Conspiracy of Pontiac, II, 257, 258 ; Chittenden, Fur Trade, I, 97. 
— 3 Oregon and California . . . Santa F^ : see Introduction. — 8 
Steamboats . . . passing up the Missouri : the first navigation of the 
Missouri by steam was in 1819, when the Independence left St. Louis 
on the Mississippi for Franklin, Missouri. For an account of the 
annual voyages of the early Missouri steamboats from St. Louis in 
the interests of the fur trade, see Chittenden, Fur Trade, I, 35 ff. 

2 7 "mountain men": the name given to the trappers in the 
Rockies, as distinct from those trappers who used to hunt afoot in 
the lowland forests (coureurs de bois, bushrangers), and those who 
followed the streams in canoes {voyageurs ; see page 98, line 9). 

3 2 Independence : " Independence, . . . five miles east of Kansas 
City, was laid out in 1827, and by 1831 had become the western 
rendezvous both for the Santa F^ and the Oregon traffic. Its early 
settlers were chiefly Tennesseeans and Kentuckians. It was con- 
nected with the Mormon migration of 1831-1833." — Editor's note to 
Commerce of the Prairies, E. W. T., XIX, 189. 

" Independence and Westport, just south of the Missouri's great 
bend to the east, were the gateway of the earliest regular travel and 

349 



350 THE OREGOX TRAIL 

traffic across the plains. These towns are now the suburbs of Kansas 
City. . . . The old Santa Fd trail led by these settlements. From these 
points, too, the fur-trading companies conducted expeditions annually 
to . . . beyond the Rocky Mountains." — Quarterly of Oregon Hist. Soc, 
Vol. I, The Oregon Trail, p. 354. — 8 Spaniards : from the Mexican 
provinces ; New Mexico was a part of Old Mexico, and the home 
almost exclusively of Spanish Americans till after the Mexican War 
(1846-1848).— 28 Westport: see preceding note. 

4 31 " Kentucky fellows " : see note to page 5. 

5 25 choice of leaders : see Introduction. 

6 11 the various motives: see Introduction. Parkman is writing 
before the days of the gold fever, when one motive was supreme. 

8 9 Fort Leavenworth : near the mouth of the Little Platte ; for 
many years the most westerly military post of the United States ; 
established, according to orders from the army, in 1827 by Colonel 
(later General) Leavenworth. — 10 the dragoons in their expedition 
of last summer : see pages 216, 217. — 22 Daniel Boone: "Backwoods- 
man of Kentucky," whose fame even Byron echoed in Don Juan; 
born in Pennsylvania in 1734, and dying in Missouri in 1820. 

10 20 " Sacre enfant de garce" : a mild equivalent in English would 
be " confounded son of a gun " ; garce is literally a coarse term for a 
degraded woman. — 33 Jean Baptiste : a nickname for a French 
Canadian. — 35 bourgeois: as a term in the fur trade it meant the 
manager of the frontier trading post or fur-trading expedition, who 
" conducted his business with an almost military discipline." See 
page 64. But it was loosely used of any one in authority. See Park- 
man, Pontiac, I, 295 ; and Chittenden, Fur Trade, I, 52. 

11 4 Fur Company: see Introduction. 

12 15 " lope " : an easy, cantering gait, characteristic of the mus- 
tang. — 34 Kanzas Indian : for Kansas, now officially spelled Kansa, 
Indian. '' We saw here [on the Kansas river] the first village of Kan- 
zas Indians. Their huts are made of poles and bark, and are about 
sixteen feet wide, by thirty long, and eight high. The ends are per- 
pendicular, but the sides joining with the roof in a gradual curve, 
make the whole very nearly in the shape of the half of a circular 
cylinder." Quarterly of Oregon Hist. Soc, Vol. VII, Route Across the 
Ttocky Mountains, p. 68. 

13 19 bows and arrows : the Plains Indians were at this time only 
partially armed with the rifle, though the Iroquois of New York and 



NOTES 351 

the Algonquian of New England and Canada had been deft in its nse 
already in the seventeenth century. — 28 fording : a dangling parti- 
ciple. How would you correct it ? — 33 Methodist Shawanoe Mission : 
one of the earliest of the Protestant missions on " the last American 
Frontier." Catholic missions, notably Spanish, had long before pene- 
trated the Indian country of the Far West, primarily in what was 
then Spanish territory. The Shawnee had been removed west of the 
Mississippi after the AVar of 1812, in which they had borne a part, 
fighting against Clark and Wayne in Ohio. Tecumseh was a Shawnee. 

14 6 the Shawanoes : " The Shawnees [Shawnee] have made con- 
siderable advancement towards civilization [i.e. in their new home]. 
Many of them have good farms and comfortable houses. Some of 
them are good mechanics, and most of them speak the English lan- 
guage tolerably well." Quarterly of Oregon Hist. Soc, Vol, VII, Route 
Across the Rocky Mountains, p. G5. 

15 15 Hendrick : after a great Mohawk war chief, famous in the 
" Old French War " for sagacity and corpulence. — 20 Pontiac : after 
the great chief of that name. See note to 130 2. — 24 Ogillallah : see 
Introduction. Now spelled Oglala. 

18 33 "jump off" : " jumping-off place" is a phrase of frequent 
occurrence in journals of early western travel, to designate the start- 
ing point on the frontier. 

19 2 General Kearney : see pages 216, 217, and Introduction. — 12 
the expedition against Santa F6 : see Introduction. 

21 1 pukwi lodges: probably lodges made of rush mats, an ordi- 
nary type of summer dwelling among the Potawatomi. 

23 9 sixteen to the pound calibre : for the meaning of this techni- 
cal term, cf. "It [i.e. the backwoodsman's rifle] was generally bored 
out ... to carry a ball of seventy, more rarely of thirty or forty, to 
the povmd." — Koosevelt, Winning of the West, I, 149. — 18 principles 
of Blackstone's Commentaries: Parkman is thinking of his recent 
deliverance from the Harvard Law School, where, as his letters hint 
to us, Blackstone (the English jurist whose work was long a text- 
book) had pestered him not a little. — 25 the trail of several com- 
panies of dragoons, who last summer had made an expedition under 
Colonel Kearney to Fort Laramie : see pages 216, 217, and note to 89 2. 
— 27 the grand trail of the Oregon emigrants up the Platte: see 
Introduction and map. The route along the Platte enabled them to 
find water and fodder for their horses and cattle. 



352 THE OREGOX TRAIL 

24 12 Mazeppa : the hero of Byron's poem of that name, from 
which Parkman takes the verses that follow (see Selections from 
Byron in Standard English Classics). 

25 10 sacres: curses ; a coinage of Parkman \s after the use of sacre 
(cursed) in the imprecation ^^sacr^ enfant degarce'' (see note to 10 20). 

28 20 the "great American desert," — those barren wastes: the 
old geographies actually represented this region as a desert like the 
Sahara ; and so it appeared to the imaginations of our fathers. It is 
now populous with tumultuous cities and opulent farms. 

30 10 " catch up " : hitch up. 

33 11 the St. Joseph's trail : see map, and page 47, line 2. — Fort 
Laramie : see page 89. line 2, and note. 

34 4 St. Joseph : " Beginning in 1844 Saint Joseph, then a thriv- 
ing border town, situated on the river some fifty miles to the north 
of the first jumping off places, became an important fitting out place 
[for emigrants]." — Quarterly of Oregon Hist. Soc, Vol. I, The Oregon 
Trail, p. 354, — 5 Mormons : the Mormons arose under Joseph Smith 
in western New York state in 1830. After several years in Kirtland, 
Ohio, and one year in Far West, Missouri, they founded Nauvoo, 
Illinois, in 1839, which had a population of fifteen thousand by 1841. 
Smith was assassinated in 1844, and Nauvoo was shortly after aban- 
doned for a home farther west. Led by Brigham Young, on over South 
Pass along the Oregon trail went the mighty host of the Lord, and 
established in 1847, at a safe distance from the persecutions of the 
Gentiles, a city by the Great Salt Lake. The importance of this Mor- 
mon city in the history of " the last American frontier " has not been 
sufficiently recognized. 

34 9 "Latter Day Saints" : still used as the name of the Mor- 
mon sect. 

41 17 '' Voulez-vous du souper, tout de suite?": "Do you want 
supper right away?"' — 18 "Soz/s la charette" : "under the cart." 
Charette should be spelled charrette. 

42 21 to admiration : note the slightly archaic meaning. 

43 15 "The livelong day he had not spoke": I have not found 
the source of this line. 

45 35 the story of Mahomet and the refractory mountain : ac- 
cording to that story, ]Mahomet, after summoning the mountain in 
vain, declared with some presence of mind and truth, " If the moun- 
tain will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the mountain." 



NOTES 35o 

47 2 the St. Joseph trail . . . near its junction with the old legiti- 
mate trail of the Oregon emigrants : see map. 
50 24 their captain : see Introduction. 
56 22 prickly pears : see page 61, line 21, and page 148, line 30. 

59 13 capotes : heavy hooded cloaks thrown over the shoulders, 
worn by the trappers in cold weather. 

60 4 bois de vache: "cow wood," the French-Canadian term for 
buffalo chips, or buffalo dung. It was often used for fuel in the ab- 
sence of wood (see Palmer's account, E. W. T., XXX, 48). 

63 14 A flourishing colony of prairie-dogs : for a picture of such 
a colony see Gregg, Commerce of the Prairies, in E. W. T., XX, 278. 

73 1 my note-book : The Oregon Trail was based on notebooks 
kept during the trip, according to Parkman's usual custom. 

74 2 " the South Fork of the Platte " : see map. 

79 8 " Avance donc!^^ "go ahead I"' "get up!" (see page 23, 
line 13). 

80 28 Scott's Bluff : a little this side of Fort Laramie (see map). 
83 28 Macbeth's witches : see the first scene of Shakespeare's 

Macbeth. 

85 13 the Black Hills : " To the trapper, the Black Hills were the 
best known [of the Rocky Mountain regions], as they were the near- 
est mountains that he was wont to frequent. . . . The name is now 
restricted to the mass of mountains enclosed by the two Forks of the 
Cheyenne river in the modern states of Wyoming and South Dakota, 
but it had a far broader application in early times." — Chittenden, 
Fur Trade., II, 735. Parkman's ''Black Hills" are those mountains 
in southeastern Wyoming, between the Medicine Bow and the North 
Platte. The flat country between the Medicine Bow and Parkman's 
"Black Hills" was Laramie Plains. See our map, but especially 
the map to Fremont's Expedition^ Washington, 1845, a book appar- 
ently used by Parkman in planning his trip (see page 205, line 18, 
and note). 

86 26 an Indian medicine-bag : a pouch, often elaborately worked, 
containing nondescript articles (varying according to the superstitions 
of the owner), supposed to possess properties that bring health and 
good luck. It was often slung over the shoulders by a baldric and 
worn at medicine dances. 

87 8 shongsasha: red willow bark (see page 175, line 11>). 

88 34 impending : etymological sense. 



354 THE OREGOX TRAIL 

89 1 Looking back : a dangling participle. Correct it. — 2 Fort 
Laramie : " Fort Lauramie belongs to the American Fur Company, 
and is built for a protection against the Indians. The occupants of 
the fort, who have been long there, being mostly French and having 
wives of the Sioux, do not apprehend any danger. The fort is built 
of Dobies (unburnt bricks). A wall of six feet in thickness and fifteen 
in height, encloses an area of one hundred and fifty feet square. 
Within and around the wall, are the buildings, constructed of the 
same material. These are a Trading House, Ware Houses for storing 
goods and skins, Shops and Dwellings for the traders and men. In 
the centre is a large open area." — Quarterly of Oregon Hist. Soc, 
Vol. VII, Route Across the Rocky Mountains, p. 78, 

There is a picture of Fort Laramie as it looked in 1842, opposite 
p. 78 of Paxson's Last American Frontier. Shortly after Parkman 
was there in 1846, it was converted by the United States into a mili- 
tary post, chiefly as a protection to emigrants. — 11 engages: em- 
ployees, an old French-Canadian term applied in the fur trade, 
especially to the common hired hands engaged at Montreal, Michili- 
mackinac, and St. Louis. Cf. Chittenden, Fur Trade, I, 58. 

90 10 subsequent proceedings : see page 103. 

91 5 the extreme outposts . . . about seven hundred miles to the 
eastward: i.e. at Fort Leavenworth (see note to 8 0). 

92 30 " great medicine " : Parkman tells in his Histories of a band 
of warriors who, hanging the Jesuits' crosses around their necks, went 
out to victorious slaughter, and ever after maintained that the Chris- 
tians' symbol of salvation was "great war medicine." Anything mys- 
terious was to the Indian " great medicine." 

95 11 the traveller Catlin : George Catlin (1796-1872), who was 
for eight years " amongst the wildest tribes of Indians in North 
America," and published accounts of his observations, once widely 
read. He seems to have been rather an accurate portrayer of exter- 
nals than a penetrating critic of Indian character. His drawings have 
often been reproduced in later works. Catlinite, or pipestone, the clay 
from which the Indians carved their pipe bowls, is named after him. 

98 9 voyageur: see note to 2 7. — 14 Monterey and Buena Vista: 
Taylor defeated the Mexicans in a three days' battle, on September 
21-23, 1846, at Monterey, in northern Mexico ; and on February 23, 
1847, at Bucna Vista with scarcely four thousand men, he put to rout 
the twenty thousand under Santa Anna. 



NOTES 355 

100 17 Meneaska: white men. — 24 them: illogical pronominal 
reference ; the antecedent is grammatically singular, 

103 8 Laramie Plains: see note to 85 13. — 28 "La Bont^'s 
Camp" : evidently on the site of the La Bont^ (temporary) trading- 
post at the mouth of La Bont^ creek on the Platte beyond Port 
Laramie (see page 150). 

105 11 ties . . . between the sexes: the French trappers were 
from the earliest days peculiarly given to such alliances, and often 
became veritable Indians themselves. See the description of Reynal 
on next page. — 23 the same disorder that occasioned such heavy 
losses to the army on the Rio Grande : apparently the dysentery, 
destined later to occasion still heavier losses in the armies of the 
Civil War. 

112 13 like the cowl of a Capuchin friar : Parkman is not making 
a conventional comparison ; he had already been in Rome, and, though 
still in the early twenties, he compassed in experience something of 
the life both by the Tiber and by the Platte. — 22 Irving's "Astoria " : 
an account by AVashington Irving of John Jacob Astor's short-lived 
fur-trading post (1811-1813) at the mouth of the Columbia River. 
Published in 1836. 

116 11 General Kearney, on his late return from California : after 
the taking of Santa Fd (see Introduction). 

117 11 Fort Pierre: a famous old post of the fur trade on the 
upper Missouri (see map). There was a cross-country trail connect- 
ing it with Fort Laramie. 

119 27 "free trapper" : a trapper unattached to any of the^fur 
companies, the hardiest and most picturesque hunter of the Old West. 
Cf. Irving's Adventures of Captain Bonneville, published in 1837. 

123 6 traineau: see page 95, line 32. 

130 2 King Philip : chief of the Wampanoag Indians, in the up- 
rising against the New England colonists (1675-1676). — 2 Pontiac : 
the great chief of the Ottawa, who organized and prosecuted the 
Indian war on the western frontier (1763-1764). See Parkman's 
Conspiracy of Pontiac. — Tecumseh : the revolted chief of the Shaw- 
nee, whose army was defeated by General Harrison at Tippecanoe 
in 1811. Tecumseh was not at Tippecanoe in person. He joined the 
British and was slain at the battle of the Thames in 1813, 

131 19 the "Parks" : North, Middle, and South Parks, the prin- 
cipal open valleys in the Rockies of Colorado, in which are the sources 



356 THE OREGON TRALL 

of the North Platte, Grand, and South Platte respectively. — 25 When 
the buffalo are extinct: within forty years Parkman's prophecy of 
the passing of the buffalo was practically fulfilled. The Indian him- 
self, in his slaughter of the cows (see page 313, line 2), was partially 
responsible ; but the white man, especially after the opening up of 
the transcontinental railroads, proved the buffalo's murrain. During 
one period of three years in the seventies he killed at least five 
million merely for their hides, to say nothing of those he killed for 
pleasure. 

138 4 every gift among the Indians : hence the proverbial ex- 
pression, " Indian giver," a common taunt among youngsters. 

139 35 pommes blanches: literally " white apples," small white 
roots eaten by the Indians, sometimes called "swan apples." 

140 25 Salvator : Salvator Rosa, a famous Italian painter of the 
Neapolitan school. Died at Rome 1673. 

141 3 the Pythian Apollo: a marble statue of Apollo, the Greek 
sun god, in the act of slaying the Python with his arrow, stands in 
the Belvedere (" Fair-view ") room of the Vatican gallery at Rome. 
Byron describes it vividly in Childe Harold^ Canto IV, 161. — 5 
West: Benjamin West, an American painter, famous for his histor- 
ical and battle pieces. Among his Indian studies are his work in oil, 
"Penn's Treaty with the Indians," and his work in pencil illustrat- 
ing a contemporary account of the battle at Bushy Run in 1763, He 
died in 1820. — 6 a Mohawk ! : the Mohawk were one of the five 
tribes of the dreaded Iroquois of north-central New York. 

154 25 looking from them : a dangling participle. 

166 3 impended: etymological sense. Cf. " impending," page 88, 
line 34. — 34 Gros-Ventre : French, big belly. Explain why so many 
names of Indian tribes and bands are French. The Grosventres were 
a tribe of Siouan stock, also called Minitaree, living in villages con- 
tiguous to the Mandan on the upper Missouri. 

174 4 Shienne : a spelling of " Cheyenne." 

187 13 Taos : an old Spanish town in New Mexico (see map) ; 
originally an Indian pueblo, and still in part a prominent pueblo 
settlement. — Santa F^ : chief city of the old northern province of 
Mexico (founded, according to scholars, in 1605), and terminal of the 
American Santa F^ trade (see map and Introduction). — 16 Nez Perc6 
mission : a Catholic mission to the Nez Percd Indians far away in 
the Oregon country. Nez Perc6 is French for "pierced nose." 



NOTES 357 

194 6 pemmican : from the Cree language : plmmi, meat ; kon, fat. 
— 7 wasna : more accurately, dried meat and cherries (sometimes with 
the stones) pulverized together and usually mixed into melted tallow, 
which, hardening, preserved the preparation indefinitely. It was a 
staple on journeys, apparently often in the form of soup. The modern 
pemmican, used especially on Arctic voyages, though differing in some 
minor ingredients, is essentially similar. 

204 21 Sancho Panza : the pompous squire of Don Quixote, in 
Cervant^s's romance of that name. 

205 18 " Fremont's Expedition " : J. C. Fremont (1813-1890), 
"the Pathfinder," was sent out by the United States to explore west 
of the Missouri ; on the first expedition (1842) he explored to South 
Pass in the Rockies ; on the second (1843-1844) he penetrated to 
Oregon and northern California. 

207 13 a lineal descent from bears, wolves : an Indian clan — 
to be distinguished from a tribe — was constituted by lineal descent 
from some one animal (occasionally object), and the effigy mounds 
(bears, deer, etc.) of the Mississippi valley, especially numerous around 
the lakes of Madison, Wisconsin, are silent but eloquent witnesses 
of this ancient belief, a belief (totemism) all but universal among 
primitive peoples. It may be mentioned that all the earthworks of 
aboriginal America, whether effigy, burial, or defensive, are of In- 
dian origin. " The mysterious race of mound-builders" existed only 
in the heads of ignorant dreamers. 

209 12 descending the Arkansas on the trail of General Kearney's 
army : see Introduction ; also page 264, line 9, and page 277, line 10. 
Note that Parkman is speaking of his return to Fort Leavenworth 
over the course that Kearney had taken a few weeks before from 
Fort Leavenworth for Santa F^. 

216 11 Colonel Kearney left Fort Leavenworth . . . marched to 
Fort Laramie, passed along the foot of the mountains [the Rockies] 
to Bent's Fort, and then, turning eastward again, returned to the 
point whence he set out : this was practically Parkman' s route also. 
For Bent's Fort see note to 258 10. — 16 Sweetwater : a small trib- 
utary of the North Platte, arising in South Pass. The Oregon trail 
followed its course. 

223 29 fraternities : the existence of such fraternities has been 
questioned by some later students of Indian customs, who seem not 
to have remembered this testimony of an eyewitness (see page 265, 



358 TPIE OREGON TRAIL 

line 34). Cf. W. J. Hoffmairs account of the cult societies of the 
Menomini Indians in the Fourteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of 
Ethnologij, pp. 66-161. 

227 23 After having ridden : a dangling gerund. 

232 34 with his witch-hazel rod : a form of divination ; held in 
the hand, the rod was supposed to point downward when the diviner 
reached a spot where gold, a spring of water, or the like, was hidden 
in the ground. 

245 9 nom de guerre: assumed name. 

2518 Descending: a dangling participle. 

255 31 Fort Pierre : see map and note to 117 11. 

258 10 Bent's Fort: see map and page 281, line 5. Bent's Fort, 
on one branch of the Santa F6 trail, five hundred and thirty miles 
from Independence, was " the great crossroads station of the south- 
west. The north and south route between the Platte river country 
and Santa F^, and the east and west route up the Arkansas and into 
the mountains, found this their most natural trading point." — Chit- 
tenden, Fur Trade, II, 543. Bent was of a well-known St. Louis 
family in the first half of the nineteenth century. 

259 2 adieu to . . . Fort Laramie : a trail had been worn by the 
dragoons of Fort Leavenworth from Fort Laramie, through St. 
Vrain's, crossing the South Platte at Cherry Creek, past Boiling 
Springs, on to Bent's Fort ; this is the route Parkman was now 
about to traverse. 

262 10 the Pueblo : see map, and page 276, lines 1 ff. 

264 General Kearney's march up the Arkansas : see Introduc- 
tion ; also page 200, line 12, and page 277, line 10. — 10 General Tay- 
lor's victories at Matamoras : Matamoras, near the mouth of the Rio 
Grande, was occupied by Taylor, May 18, 1846. — 25 poncho*": a 
poncho is " a kind of cloak worn by the Spanish Americans, like a 
blanket with a slit in the middle for the head." — Webster's New 
International. — 32 "to daff the world aside " : see Shakespeare, 
1 Henry IV, IV, i. 

265 23 Paganini : an Italian violinist, famous in Parkman's boy- 
hood (1782-1840). — 34 The society of the "Strong Hearts" : see 
page 223, line 29, 

267 28 Agassiz Museum: at Harvard University, named after 
the great naturalist, Louis Agassiz (1807-1873), a professor at that 
school. 



NOTES 359 

269 8 South Fork of the Platte : see map. — 23 Long's Peak: 
see map. Long was an early government explorer. — .34 Scylla and 
Charybdis : the monsters fabled to be on opposite shores of the 
Straits of Messina, between Italy and Sicily, each equally a terror 
to mariners. 

270 34 St. Patrick: who is reputed to have driven all the snakes 
out of Ireland. 

271 20 the walls of a large fort, built ... by M. St. Vrain: see 
map. 'Note how many of the names one meets in this early western 
country betray the wide activity of the old French trappers and 
traders of Canada or the country along the Mississippi, the Louisi- 
ana of the eighteenth century, settled from France and Canada. 
Ceran St. Vrain, who died in 1818, was of a well-known St. Louis 
family, when St. Louis was the emporium of the fur trade. 

272 34 Pike's Peak: see map. As Parkman tells us on page 274, 
they finally passed within six or eight miles of the mountain. Pike 
was an early government explorer. 

2 73 31 " Des sauvages !" : " the savages ! ' ' 

277 10 three weeks before, General Kearney's army had left 
Bent's Fort to march against Santa F^ : see Introduction. — 14 
the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma : fought at the be- 
ginning of the Mexican War, respectively on May 8 and 9, 1846, by 
which Taylor's army drove the Mexicans across the Rio Grande. 
Taylor, advancing, captured Monterey in northern Mexico after a 
three days' battle, September 21-23. 

280 2 Nauvoo : see note to 34 5. 

282 20 yager: obviously the same word as "yager" (from Ger- 
man, Jaeger, a hunter), which means a member of a special body of 
infantry in the German army. Explain how the meaning in the text 
might have come about. — 29 had come in a trading vessel to Cali- 
fornia : around Cape Horn, the regular route before the development 
of the transcontinental trails. For a classic example of the sailor 
making shift in the backwoods, see Cowper's Pathfinder. 

283 1 Bridger's Fort : a trading post, the first important stopping 
place of the emigrants on the Oregon trail after their journey through 
South Pass (see map). 

284 25 Tete Rouge: "Red Head." 

285 12 Fighting Mexicans was a less amusing occupation than 
he had supposed : compare the similar disillusion of Birdof redum 



360 THE OREGON TKAIL 

Sawiii as manifested in his letters from the front (Lowell, Biglow 
Papers^ first series). 

291 13 a long train of Santa Fd wagons: Parkman was now 
traversing the branch of the Santa F^ trail that followed the Upper 
Arkansas to Bent's Fort. " The old trail of the Cimarron " branched 
off near The Caches (see map). — 25 "The Caches": see map. There 
were several other places in the fur-trading regions bearing this name. 
A cache was a large hole in the ground in which a fur trader stored 
such merchandise, provisions, and effects as he was for the time be- 
ing unable to carry with him. It was protected from water within, 
and when it was closed up, all traces of its existence were carefully 
obliterated, usually by building a camp fire over it. But a cache 
would sometimes be discovered, especially by Indians and wolves. 
The traders usually respected the caches of their colleagues. 

292 4 Pawnee Fork : see map. 

293 16 General Kearney . . . renewing his threats of the previous 
year: see pages 216, 217. Kearney's expedition to Fort Laramie 
in 1845 and his expedition against Santa F6 in 1846 must be kept 
distinct. 

294 16 sign-language : " We may suppose that at first only signs' 
most natural and expressive were used. By-and-by other signs were 
introduced, always conventional, but becoming more and more arbi- 
trary, until there resulted a means of communication almost as per- 
fect as if each understood and spoke the oral language of the other 
. . . used in its completeness only by the Plains Indians." — Dodge, 
Our Wild Indians, p. 380. 

302 13 Kit Carson : " trapper, guide, soldier, and Indian agent " 
(1809-1868). Though his national reputation was gained in the days 
of the Overland Mail, a number of years after the date of Parkman' s 
trip, he was already known through his services as guide to Fremont. 

304 33 *< Owi, Men charge. . . c'est un bon fusil" : "yes, well 
loaded ... it's a good gun." 

322 14 By lying: a dangling gerund. How would you correct it? 

324 4 the old trail of the Cimarron : for a considerable distance 
the regular Santa Fe trail went along the Cimarron river. This is the 
trail shown on our map. Note that Parkman is still on the branch 
trail between Bent's Fort and The Caches. 

325 5 the battle of Sacramento : fought in northern Mexico, Feb- 
ruary 28, 1847. 



NOTES 361 

329 14 sacre enfant de garce!: see note to 10 20. 

334 15 the Caches : see page 291, line 25, and note. 

338 8 a smaller trail, known as " the Ridge-path " : short cuts 
such as this were not uncommon both on the Oregon and the Santa 
F6 trail. 

344 9 Council Grove : one hundred and fifty miles from Inde- 
pendence ; here the Santa F^ traders organized their caravans (see 
Introduction). 



DEC 8 1910 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



